Angel's Grace
by ElvenDestiny
Summary: Everything had changed with just one bullet that fateful night. I lost my life, only to be given a pair of beautiful, but useless wings. I swore an oath, creating a bond that could not be broken. And Seto Kaiba gained a guardian angel. COMPLETE
1. Beginnings

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended.

**Prologue **

In the first few months after Dartz's betrayal, life turned upside down for Raphael, Varon, and me. Each of us tried to handle it in our own way, but for me it was like waking up from a nightmare only to realize that reality was even worse. Raphael probably took it the hardest since in some ways he had expected so much more. He had all these idealistic dreams of saving the world and permanently getting rid of all its ugliness and violence. Those dreams crumbled around him as surely as Atlantis had.

But even if Raphael had the biggest dreams, the truth was that all three of us had dreamed. Varon and I had believed, too, even without the grand vision that Raphael had.

Now the question was, what had we believed in? We had been misguided for months, even years of our lives. I don't think any of us really meant to hurt others. It wasn't as if we thought of ourselves as evil—probably not even our leader. You might wonder how I can think of Dartz without hate or bitterness. It's simple, actually: I don't. Every time I think of Miruko and everything I had lost, the anger nearly overrides the pain.

Given my anger, it's quite strange that I should also feel pity for him, too. In some sense, I even do forgive him. Not for what he did to Miruko, but for what he did to us, because I think that he did it to himself at the same time. We were all wrapped in so many layers of deceit. It was the glue that held us all together.

Even now, I'm fairly certain that if the thought of failure had ever crossed Raphael's mind, he would have been willing to become a martyr for the cause. That was the kind of power Dartz had over us: the power of vision, only the vision was of a distorted reality. He had picked us carefully and had taken everything else away from us, until all we had left to live for was that vision. Dartz had a way of collecting the most desperate people and then giving them a reason to live, a purpose toward which we could act. We channeled all of that raw anguish into serving the organization.

In the end, of course, we were only three disillusioned people. We were the elite of an organization that had specialized in collecting souls, a collapsing company whose leader had simply disappeared. An official probe in the aftermath of things turned up discrepancies on the business side of things, so that was the first to go. I'm sure making figures match while collecting souls and planning on the revival of his personal empire wasn't exactly a priority for Dartz.

What it meant for the three of us, though, was that we suddenly had almost nothing, in more ways than one. We were friendless and without family, but for each other. I suppose that was the only thing that bound us together, at first. None of us had quite dreamed of a life outside of Doom, just as none of us had ever thought that we would fail. I think we all expected to split up, eventually, when we got things a little more together. But somehow, we never did get around to it.

By some unspoken mutual consensus, we moved to Domino City. Raphael found a small apartment that we shared, although it was somewhat cramped. As time dragged on and we struggled to pick up the pieces of our lives, we grew closer to each other—almost, I would say, like a family. A dysfunctional one, of course, but we stuck it out together. After all, there was no one else around to be there for us.

I thought it was probably rather like what veterans experienced when they returned home after a war. Everything around me seemed to have changed; the world wasn't quite as I had known it. There were more questions than answers and the future which had seemed so certain before had completely dissolved. I guess even if Dartz's plans _had_ succeeded and left us alive, we wouldn't have known what to do anyway.

Each of us had gone through an ordeal. Each of us had had our souls ripped away from us, just as we had ripped them away from others. It left us different, almost fragile. At least, some days I felt like I could disappear and no one would be the wiser. Life had happily gone on around us; we were the ones that had changed. We had been dropped back into the middle of life and were only now realizing that it was all over.

So the real challenge was, how do you go back to simply _living_? What were we supposed to do with the rest of our lives now? Everything we had lived for and expected had simply disappeared. The future was terrifyingly blank.

It wasn't easy, that was for sure. If we hadn't all been there for each other, I'm not sure any of us would have made it through the first few weeks. There were periods of rage. Sometimes it was still numb disbelief and other times it was a crippling anguish. It was hard not to fall into despondency or to want to give up entirely. Some days were simply spirals of despair. I struggled all the time just to find a reason to keep going, to figure out how to put together some kind of life.

Slowly, painfully, we took steps toward something normal, beginning with the most mundane thing of all: we each found jobs. Even then, they weren't your mainstream 9 to 5 office jobs. We did whatever we could find to suit our unusual talents.

Raphael became a high-priced security guard for some elite private company that had deals with businessmen, politicians, and basically, whoever was wealthy enough to afford their services. The role of bodyguard suited him well and he seemed fairly happy doing what he did best, which was protecting others. Meanwhile, Varon drifted from job to job but was currently a trick biker. The youngest of us, he sometimes seemed like the most troubled, and whenever we fought, I had to remind myself that he had more issues to deal with than your average teenager. I could tell he looked up to Raphael, so I hoped that there was some part of him that hadn't been corrupted by his past.

As for myself, I knew there wasn't. Even before Dartz, my life had been over. I worked steadily towards only one goal: revenge for my family, for Miruko. At night, I still dreamed of my brother, but no longer could I promise him in my dreams that I would find vengeance for what had happened to him. While Raphael and Varon moved on, I didn't know what to do. They had made their peace with the people they left behind. For whatever reason, I seemed unable to let go. The only solace I found was in music. Ironically, it was partly how I ended up as a dancer.

Yes, a _dancer_. No, not an exotic dancer, or whatever euphemism they liked to use for strippers. Just a dancer. It was actually Varon who suggested it first, as a snide joke. He'd said something about me having the right clothes and the right body type for stripping, and that I might as well help bring in some money. I doubt he expected me to take it to heart, but the truth was, I had some talent for it and the determination necessary to become more than just average at it. I still smile every time I remember the expression on his face after he found out.

The thing was, it actually made me feel alive. I found out that backup dancers could actually make decent money. There was no one in the crowds to recognize me—Domino was a city of strangers to us—but at the same time there was a kind of freedom to performing in front of an appreciative audience. It wasn't as if I sold my body for the spectacle, although if you judged by the amount of money I took in each night, the assumption might have been a little justified.

It was inexplicable, really. From there on, it was almost as if everything just came together. First it was backup dancing, then the occasional solos, and then sometimes backup vocals. Things happened at the right time, in the right ways. Maybe I was overdue for luck, but in any case, it finally seemed to be on my side.

To be specific, Devastation happened. It was a four-person band missing a lead singer, and while working with other bands, I'd discovered that I had musical talents I hadn't known I had. After the auditions, I even started writing some lyrics. The music that I'd surrounded myself with became music that I produced. It was an amazing feeling, knowing that I could create something. There had been enough destruction in my life. I practiced, I danced, I sang, and to my surprise, we were labeled an upcoming success on our debut night.

It was all so unexpected, and yet once I was in, I was in for the entire ride. It got to the point that we were offered a recording contract, something that surprised no one in the band except me. My bandmates had clearly always dreamed of it and they had been in the business longer, so they had probably been expecting it—after all, we could tell that we were good. For me, it was an unexpected surprise and something that quickly became the defining point of my life. Somehow, as suddenly as the doors of my old life had slammed shut behind me, I'd found new ones to open.

But I've left out one little detail in this whole story. One of the conditions I insisted on when I joined the band was that I would remain anonymous. After just saying that Domino was a city of strangers, why was I so cautious, to the point that even my bandmates thought I was paranoid? As ridiculous as it sometimes made me feel, I even wore black shades every night, without fail, just so that no one would ever know that the singer they were fast beginning to adore had grey eyes.

It wasn't the city I was hiding from, or the fans. There was just one specific person that I never wanted to meet—a certain young billionaire who, to me, represented my entire past, one that I was more than happy to leave behind.

But in the end, it turned out that it was harder to close that particular door than even I would have thought. It all started with Seto Kaiba and ended with a pair of wings.

o o o o o

**One: Beginnings**

_And you and I,_

_We're a disaster waiting to happen_

_Do you realize I won't compromise? _

_Angel, dare to defy— _

_And pain's not weakness_

_And falling's not a fear_

_So let it come, just let it come…_

_Confrontation!_

_Devastation! _

The lights blinked out and excited screams pierced the sudden silence as I finished, the abrupt cessation of music making it seemed as if the world had simply stopped for a moment. Then the audience roared with approval, the sound almost a solid presence. We left the stage stealthily and waited backstage, knowing that the room was being illuminated once more to show our disappearance. The crowd roared, riding the wave of excitement that we had left, and I smiled to feel the energy of so many fans even as I changed into my more customary shirt and trenchcoat.

"Great job today, Amelda," Chris, the bassist, said as he passed me. He shook his head in reconciled amazement. "Can't say what exactly it is, but you've a helluva lot of intensity in that skinny body of yours."

He reached out to put a friendly hand on my shoulder but stopped, remembering my aversion to being touched. "Listen, there's this guy that's been trailing a couple of us for the past month. He's getting really weird, so I just wanted to give you a head's up if he approaches you." He smiled easily, teeth flashing white.

"Trailing you guys?" This was the first time any of the band had spoken to me about something like this, so naturally I was curious.

"Yeah, just some obsessed fan. Fanatic, really. Tried to get me to give him your address—like I would do _that_—and when it didn't work, he started harassing Cobain. Whatever he did must've really pissed Emerson off because he asked me to tell you to watch out for this guy."

I frowned, interest definitely sparked now. Contrary to most logic, although the lead singer of the band, I wasn't the lead_er_ of Devastation. Emerson Cobain, one of our electric guitarists, was the one that had this band going long before I came along. I didn't have the foggiest idea of all the things he managed, so I didn't mind at all. The band was probably better off, anyway, since I didn't really take much interest in the band other than my part.

Emerson was great, a word that included everything from his ink-black spiked hair (reminiscent of a cute hedgehog, in my opinion, and completely contrary to approved rocker style) to his guitar skills. He was also one of the most easy-going guys I've ever known, so it surprised me that a fan would anger him, even a pushy one.

I suppose it even Cobain's patience had to have its limits. The relationship between a popular band and its fans was an odd one, probably best described as a kind of cross between love and hate. We were well aware that we were really nothing without the fans, but at the same time, sometimes they demanded a little too much.

"Anyway, Cobain told him pretty clearly to get lost, so he shouldn't be a bother. Just make sure he doesn't trap you in some dark corner or something. You're just too desirable, Amelda." Chris laughed as he left the room, despite my glare. The joke was really getting old, something that originally came from a fan's overenthusiastic greeting—the idiot had practically tried to rip off my clothes.

That particular memory still had the ability to make my cheeks burn, as I'm sure was Chris's intent. I was a little peeved by the teasing; I was the only one of the band not comfortably hooked up to anyone yet. I couldn't quite convince them that I wasn't secretly pining after someone, whom they had fondly termed Amelda's 'Mystery Lover.' Sickening, right? I guess it could have been worse. They had come up with creative nicknames for each member's significant other, and the more risqué, the better.

The night air was chill outside and there was a strong breeze. I sighed, the surreal exhilaration of the club fading away and leaving me with a rather colder reality. I didn't meet any shadowy fans as I slipped out of the building through one of the side entrances, a little tired now that I was away from the energy of the clubbers. But I almost wished I did, because I would have rather met anyone than the person I nearly ran into as I turned around the corner.

Arrogant blue eyes stared at me, examining me from head to toe in that infuriating, smug way of his. His gaze lingered on my bared stomach and for once I wished I'd been insulted by Varon's teasing and had chosen something more concealing. I clenched my hand reflexively, feeling a mixture of familiar anger and unfamiliar fear. Because _he _was the reason why I wanted to remain anonymous, or as much so as I could get and still headline a club's performance, anyway. I hadn't seen him for close to three months, and I was glad of it.

Seeing him brought back too many memories I'd rather just forget. It went beyond just Doom and my involvement in the apocalypse-focused organization, beyond the two intense duels we'd fought, one in midair, several thousand feet above the ground. What I couldn't explain, I sure could ignore.

"Hello, Kaiba," I said tonelessly, surprised when my voice was strong and steady, although a little edged.

"Amelda." He smirked, but the effect was probably not quite as great as he hoped because a gust of wind ruffled his hair and blew a few strands over his eyes. The golden-white streetlight illuminated his face beautifully, gentling his expression and leaving his skin a creamy color, but his eyes weren't as blue as I knew they were.

All I wanted was to get away, but it would seem cowardly to leave. "What are you doing here?"

"What's a club for?" he drawled, amused at my expense.

"I didn't know that clubs were your sort of thing. A dinner party with affluent guests would be more to your taste, wouldn't it?" Okay, I knew I'd get nowhere with the insult, but at least I tried. As I studied his veiled expression, I was struck with the discomforting thought that he'd been watching. As in, watching _me. _Had he been in the club while I was singing, eyes assessing my dance the same way he had just scrutinized my body a few moments ago? The thought nearly made me flinch away from him, and I was suddenly thankful I had gone to such lengths for anonymity.

"And how do you know what sorts of things I have a taste for?"

This was ridiculous. I stared at his exposed throat so that I wouldn't have to meet his eyes, and the KC insignia on the lapel of his usual expensive white trenchcoat reminded me that there was no reason for me to be standing here out in the street talking to my ex-rival. Or current rival, maybe.

I turned and began walking away, resisting the urge to glance back to see if he was still looking at me. I hated him so much suddenly that I wished I could do something, maybe punch him or worse. He'd held up a mirror to me, during that airborne duel, and forced me to look at things I didn't want to see. That I, not Gozaburo, as good as killed Miruko, through my own carelessness. I was the one who had handed my brother over to the people in the tank and walking away, only to stop in horror as I heard the explosions behind me, turning around to see flames, everywhere…

I stopped my train of thought. This was precisely why I wanted to avoid him. The truth was, I hated Kaiba, but most of all I hated myself. There was nowhere to run from the guilt of it, no more excuses. Kaiba and I are alike in a lot of ways, but the main difference was that he saved his brother, against all odds, whereas I had failed mine. I remembered with disgust my attempts to blame anyone, anything, rather than myself, as I continued walking down the narrow street. I was about to turn another corner when I heard him.

"Good performance tonight, Amelda," he called after me. That _did _make me stop, an angry retort on my lips, but he was already gone.

I didn't need his false compliments. What did I care if he'd seen me tonight, dancing with the intent to entice, singing all the things I wanted to say but kept locked up within me, perversely being free only through the guise of lyrics? I didn't care. I shouldn't care.

I told myself over and over that he hadn't recognized me. He'd just made the comment because he had assumed that I had been there clubbing. He'd meant that there had been a good performance tonight, not that _I'd _put on a good performance. There was absolutely no reason to believe he had made it some kind of _personal _statement.

Then again, how many people in the whole of Domino City had hair this exact blend of red and magenta? The thought just wouldn't go away.

I had just known that the hair thing would come back to haunt me. When I'd joined the band, I'd had my hair dyed black. Something about my hair made it extraordinarily resistant, however, and I found out that the dye fades pretty quickly—quickly in terms of _days_—and the parts that faded gave my hair a peculiar black and red streaked look. I didn't mind so much, and neither did the band, but when we'd started to regularly perform I was politely informed that it would be to our benefit if I changed it. It was almost a relief; the dye was always a mess and it had given me an excuse to stop worrying so much about being recognized. Besides, Emerson had come up with a radical new look onstage, something 'normal' Amelda would've never had.

I'd never be able to get Kaiba's comment out of my mind. Now I'd always wonder if he knew or if he didn't. Damn him.

The street that I had turned into was dark, but I liked it that way, because this was where I kept my motorcycle. Odd little noises, along with the old brick walls and sense of deterioration in the buildings around me created a haunting effect. I shivered, and then laughed out loud, remembering Chris's little joke about dark corners. It felt like something was at my back, and while the thought flashed in my mind that I was getting spooked out for no reason, I turned around just to check.

But I never made it around enough to see what was following me before a heavy blow fell on the back of my neck. My mouth opened in a cry as something grabbed my arms and pulled them roughly behind me, cool metal sliding around my wrists and entrapping me with a simple click. A kick to the back of my knee and I instinctively tried to catch my fall with my arms but fell hard on my knees, handcuffed.

I caught a glimpse of my attacker and the shock of it numbed me for a second before it spurred me. His face was hidden by shadow but he was wearing a dark suit complete with tie. My eyes were caught by the gleam of gold, the letters KC on the pin. Kaiba Corp—a dozen possibilities ran through my mind in that one moment, that Kaiba had hired someone to kill me, that he wanted something from me.

My cry must have alerted someone and he kicked me in the stomach for it. Despite the blinding pain, I opened my mouth again; someone had to be there to help. But he drew a gun just as I heard the sound of running footsteps and a woman's scream.

I heard it, the explosion so loud that it seemed to echo, saw the gun pointed straight at me, only a few feet away, before pain tore through me and I realized what had happened. It was so intense that oddly, it was almost having a numbing effect, as if my body had given up on feeling everything because there was too much to feel. Everything turned hazy and grey, a sweet sense of relief spreading through my curiously leaden arms and legs.

The streetlight shone oddly, or was it my vision that was blurring? I wanted to move my arm, to get up, but everything felt so heavy and as much as I tried, I couldn't move. For a moment, I felt imprisoned inside my own body, and then it was as if I floated free. Somehow, I was looking at myself, and my eyes were closed, my face almost peaceful. How was it possible that my eyes were closed while I was seeing?

Dimly I heard a voice curse and the sound of something hitting the pavement next to my hand. The gun, I thought.

Then there were more footsteps, screams, and that was all.

o o o

A/N: **Please review**! Silence is an author's worst nightmare.


	2. Bonded

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: This story is only here thanks to Decadency, Fifilafemme, Kritius, Dagmar the Dark, Aisha-chan, vepoleg, and Dark Seraphim.

**  
Two: Bonded **

_Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt, and live like it's heaven on Earth.  
— Mark Twain_.

Everything hurt, but at the same time it hurt so much that I almost couldn't feel it, as if my mind were somehow disconnected from the suffering of my body on at least one level. I labored for breath, feeling as if there was something stuck in my chest, pushing me down and preventing me from getting the air I needed. Instead of feeling pain, all that I knew was that I was growing tired. It felt like moving was impossible, because my arms and legs were so heavy, aching with a bone deep fatigue that made me simply want to give up.

In some part of my mind, I probably guessed that I was dying, but it didn't seem like such a big deal. People have speculated about death for eons, but I had seen so much of it when I was younger that rather than fearing it more, I had become desensitized to it. After all, every single living thing eventually dies.

They say some people see a bright light or that scenes from their life flash in front of them in their final moments. That wasn't the case for me at all. In fact, all I could think about was that one Tuesday night, almost a week ago. It felt like I was reliving it again in these last minutes and I closed my eyes, feeling wet heat steal out of the corners of my eyes.

I thought about him so much and I was never really sure if I wanted him or hated him. But all I could think about as I lay dying was whether I would ever see him again.

_The music pours from my bandmates around me and I let myself relax, for the moment completely uncaring that hundreds of fans are eagerly watching our every move, drawn as surely as moths to a flame. The pulsing rhythm matches my heartbeat and I wait, head lowered, body already swaying…I take a breath and begin to sing, the lyrics spelling out the story of my life, but I don't hear myself. _

_I think of the one person I had loved, and wonder how I could have betrayed him like this, my own brother. I wonder why I can't deny it, even though I don't dare admit the truth, even to myself…the truth that I had betrayed Miruko. Even before I had lost the airborne duel and subsequently lost my own soul, I had betrayed him with our worst enemy. _

_The song is my confession, the only way I can express all the self-loathing and horror I feel at knowing just how much he affects me, even though it has been months since I have seen him. Within the guise of lyrics, I can admit that I wonder what those lips would feel like pressed against mine. I can hate myself for it._

_It is so easy to lose myself completely in the music, to forget the world outside and live only in this dance. At the same time I am acutely conscious of everything around me, and the way I dance to the music as if it were a lover, the movements of my body smooth and sensual. I know exactly what he must be imagining as my hand touches my throat and passes lightly down my chest. The interlude is filled with only the throb of the guitars and I close my eyes, hands running down the side of my hips, secretly imagining they are his hands._

_I see blue—a pure and endless blue, the turmoil of a brewing storm on the sea. As I raise my voice again in a husky, wordless croon, I wonder…can he hear me? Has he heard my voice before, without even recognizing it? Is he watching now, hidden amidst the gyrating press of bodies on the shadowy dance floor? _

_Slowly I near the edge of the stage and instead of stopping there as I usually do, I descend into the crowd, causing piercing screams of excitement. The danger of it appeals to me, the knowledge that, lost in the multitude of people on the closely-packed dance floor, I am incongruously vulnerable. Hands reach out to touch me and I felt free in my revulsion for their desperate caresses, as desperate as I am myself. I feel those hot eyes wanting to own me, to take my voice and body for their private worship, and I am ashamed and elated at the same time. I don't even understand it myself, why this element of degradation draws me in—maybe I just want to punish myself, but maybe some small part of me is hoping still that he'll see me and somehow want me, like all these people do. _

_That is what music lets me do, what the suggestive dancing is all about. I don't do it for the fans, not really. I do it for myself, because then I can pretend. _

_Miruko…I try to cling to the thought, to the memory of his small hand grasping mine firmly as we faced the end of our world. I try to remember the hate that had raged inside of me when I had seen the insignia on the sides of the tanks that had killed him. I try to feel anger against the one who had inherited the wealth created from the destruction of my life. Blood money, I tell myself. _

_But I don't care, and that is the blatant truth that I run from when I avoid him. I don't care about any of it, only that he isn't mine and I can never have him. He owes me a life. He owes me something, but what I want isn't anything he'll willingly give, and there's no other way to have it._

_Are those blue eyes that are drinking in my movements, jealous of the bodies pressing against mine? Tonight I seduce the audience, but my mood is savage with all these dark emotions, the disgust and the despair. The audience feels it and likes it, eager to feel the sheer exhilaration of playing with fire. That's what I'm selling, even more than the music and the dancing._

_I'm selling my emotions. They don't even know it, but they're getting my story. My whole life._

_And all I remember is that feeling of falling into the blue._

_Do you remember me_

_Because I'll never forget you_

_So where are you now _

_Where are you?_

_I must be imagining it, that intense blue gaze that somehow catches mine. I can't help but react and it's all so sudden that I've forgotten the last line, so I sing whatever comes to mind at the moment…_

_You're _here _with me—_

_I press forward as the words ring out, trying to make my way through the crowd. The person I thought I had seen for that heart-stopping moment has disappeared. Such bitter disappointment fills me that I swallow past a hard lump in my throat and my eyes burn with unshed tears. It doesn't matter, because the performance is over. I turn blindly around, making my way back to the stage._

_Of course I had only imagined it all. _

o o o

Someone shook me violently, insistently. I didn't want to wake, so I stubbornly kept my eyes closed, trying to chase away the ache in my chest. Raphael always said that I was even more bullheaded than Varon, which was practically a compliment of sorts, considering the lengths the Aussie would go to in order to have his own way. I kept my eyes shut.

It hurt, but in more ways than one. I had shoved that memory to the darkest, deepest corners of my mind and had so thoroughly repressed it that I hadn't even thought about it. But watching it all again—feeling it and living it—hurt more than the physical pain.

The pain faded gradually and I found myself opening my eyes anyway, as much from surprise as from the nagging feeling I had. Everything was white, and for a moment I panicked and thought that I was blind. But I was pretty sure that the blind lived in darkness and not in this kind of colorless void.

Finally I blinked and realized I was lying on my back, but when I rolled to look at what I was lying on, that was white too. Terrifyingly white, completely blank, no edges or lines. There was simply just white _space_, all around me. There was nothing else. I started to wonder if I had become insane.

Then I saw Miruko appear out of nowhere, and he was smiling at me. He was six years old and Mother had just died, but I knew he still clung to hope. His eyes shone with his utter faith that everything would be all right, that _I _could find a happy ending for us, because that was what I had told him.

But Miruko was dead. I shook my head, trying to break free of this hallucination. I dreamed of him sometimes, except I had the strange feeling that this wasn't just a dream. After all, my imagination couldn't possibly be good enough to come up with this white void. I finally dared to look at him again and his grey eyes, lighter than mine by a few shades, were worried.

"It isn't supposed to be this way, Amelda," he told me.

Okay, I don't remember any dreams where he had actually spoken to me.

"What?" I heard myself before I realized I could speak. The pain was gone, but I still felt limp and helpless, as if all my muscles had decided to rebel against me. My own voice sounded strange, kind of hollow. "Miruko, where are we?"

He gave me another smile, a sad, wistful one. "We're Above. He killed you, but it shouldn't be this way. You aren't supposed to be with me, big brother, not yet."

Miruko held my hand as I stood up. I found out immediately that all the whiteness was extremely disorienting, since I couldn't see any walls or floor or anything that might have told me that I was in some sort of space. I tried to focus on him and not think too much about what was up and what was down. He hugged me, burying his face into the rough material of my trench coat. My arms instinctively came around him and I drew in a sharp breath when he felt solid to my touch. It had been so long since I had held him.

"Miruko, does that mean I'm dead?" I sounded almost calm. I tried to recall what I last did and suddenly the flood of memories came back. Chris had been warning me, but I hadn't been listening. That surreal meeting with Kaiba, my uncertainty over whether he had recognized me as the singer onstage, the sudden attack, a gold KC brooch flashing before my eyes—the gunshot.

I had been shot and I remembered the pain tearing through me before I had rapidly seemed to leave my body. I had almost certainly died, right? Was this heaven or something? The thought should have terrified me, but I was beyond being shocked.

A rippling chord drifted through the white void, as if someone had lightly run their hands across a thousand harp strings. It was more air than music.

"What is that?" I whispered, and then was surprised that I had done so. Somehow it felt as if I were in a church or library, or perhaps the critically ill ward of the hospital. It seemed wrong to speak in a normal tone of voice.

Miruko's face was thoughtful. "You're being called," he told me. "That means I won't be able to see you. I think it's because it wasn't supposed to happen this way, so the Guardians of Faith are going to make things right."

The last part of that sentence meant nothing to me, so what I focused on was the fact that Miruko was going to leave me. I reached out and grabbed his hand, but before I had time to question him on what he meant, something tapped my shoulder.

The memory of the attack from behind—the cause of my death, after all—still fresh in my mind, I spun around and prepared to defend my brother and myself. Seconds later, I simply stared in disbelief, frozen in my utter disbelief.

I noticed the wings first: they were huge white things stretching at least a few feet above my height. Then I saw his face, with his impossibly peaceful and calm expression, a sleepy serenity in his perfect features. He held his hands away from his body and toward me, his palms up as if offering something. More than anything else, his eyes alarmed me. The irises shifted color constantly, colors melting into each other in a way that should never have been possible. One moment I was looking into green eyes and the next, they were blue.

He looked exactly like… "An angel," I said without even realizing it.

He inclined his head slightly and gave me a faint smile. I had never seen a man so beautiful, and when he spoke, his voice matched his appearance. It was absolutely unearthly. "Come with me, Amelda."

I followed, no room in my thoughts for resistance, not when I was still so stunned. I heard Miruko run up to me from behind and I turned just in time for him to throw his arms around me, nearly squeezing the breath from me as he clamped around my waist. He had tears in his eyes but he gave me a brave smile and I remembered how he wouldn't cry, not even when things got so bad during the war.

"I'll see you later, big brother," he whispered. "Just remember me."

"Miruko…"

The angel didn't lead me to anywhere and yet it seemed as if we somehow left Miruko behind. I knew I was walking but there was still nothing but emptiness around, the utter white more disturbing than anything I could have known. Finally, we stopped and I turned to face the angel.

"I am Asriel," he said, and took my hands in his. I nearly cried out—his skin was hot and his touch burned. I tried to jerk away, but he held on. A moment later, his hand in mine felt like any other person's. "Thou wilt have three days, Amelda, but there is much for thee to learn. Time flows different here, passing both slow and fast, unlike in the mortal world. Listen well and remember what I say."

"Three days?" I asked, confused. "Three days for what? Where would I go after three days?" I half expected him to say 'Hell,' but he only shook his head.

"Thou wilt understand soon, so cease thy questioning until then. Thou hath been given a second chance, Amelda, because the first had been unfairly taken away from thee."

"What do you mean?" I was having a hard time even following his archaic speech patterns. The traditional formality made his speech seem stilted, although the words seemed as lovely as the rest of him.

"Thou art now one of my brethren. Look to thyself."

I stared at him for a moment, thinking that I had misunderstood. He gestured and I still stared, wondering if he was serious. I turned my head to the side, as if looking over my shoulder, and expected o see more of that empty white dreamscape.

White met my eyes, but a different kind of white. This was _feathered _white, looming above my shoulders. I twitched in surprise and feathered white wall twitched too, and then I realized what I was looking at.

"_Wings._" My voice came out sounding half strangled, and I caught a hint of cool amusement in the Asriel's eyes as he regarded me. "I'm a—I'm an _angel_?"

"Yes. Fear not, thou wilt adjust soon enough. Eventually, thou wilt cease to think of thyself as human and truly join thy brethren."

That prospect was even more terrifying to me, but I couldn't think of a good way to tell him that. "How can I forget? That's like saying I'll forget why I am!"

"Becoming an angel is a kind of rebirth for those such as you, who were once mortal. You are an Angel Chosen, rather than an Angel Created. We have determined what both thee and Seto Kaiba need, and so have made the necessary arrangements."

I heard and tried to understand everything he said, right up until he mentioned a certain name. "_What? _What does _he_ have to do with this?"

Again, I could have sworn there was amusement in those unnerving eyes. Blue bled to violet and then shifted back to emerald green, a jewel tone that I had previously thought only cats could possess. "He and thou are alike in many ways. Thy arrogance will counter his and in doing so, teach something greater to both. Thus, thou wilt be bonded to him as soon as thou accepteth thy fate."

My mouth opened in disbelief, even though I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by bonded. But by the way he had described it, I had a good sense of what it would entail, and I was still pretty sure that I would be happy if I never saw Seto Kaiba again in my entire life. "No, I won't accept it! There's no way you'll get me ever to 'bond' to someone like him!"

Asriel looked at me and a half smile definitely graced his lips, which only increased my ire. "Angels have their duties too. Thou will have much to learn about yourself and I must introduce thee to our sisters and brothers."

"But you just _can't_!" It wasn't my duty to take care of Kaiba and even the thought was utterly ludicrous. Kaiba didn't want to be taken care of, anyway, and he wasn't even the kind of person who needed someone to look after him. I imagined suggesting something along those lines to him and imagined his expression. Weren't angels omniscient? Didn't they understand that he hated me with a passion that I reciprocated? "I'd rather be dead, Asriel. _Really _dead!"

The amusement was gone in the blink of an eye and Asriel frowned, an expression that seemed so wrong on his face that even my indignation was dampened. "Do not say that, brother. Thou hast no choice, for thou hast been Chosen. This second chance is a gift and it is not wise to scorn such gifts."

"But you're telling me that this is the price?"

The frown grew darker and I shut up. "Our sister, Ariel, will help thee through the bonding rituals, and you will understand. Sometimes the bonding 'tis not simple, but she is skilled at bringing together angel and human. A bond is for-ever, Amelda, and cannot be destroyed, save by the death of the mortal. Thou wilt receive instruction from Ariel."

_For-ever_. The word rang in my mind like a death knell. I couldn't believe all of this was happening to me. "In three days I'll be sent back to…to my normal life?"

"Yes. Thou hast begun to understand."

No. No, I really didn't. I wanted to grab and shake him until he gave me more answers—better answers, the ones I wanted to hear. I wanted to know that I had not been murdered by some Kaiba Corp employee, that I was not dead and not an angel, and most of all, that I was not about to be stuck with Kaiba for the rest of eternity. But before I had time to voice any of these protests, a second angel appeared.

Her wings were silvery-grey, and I was surprised because my own—had I just admitted that I _had _wings?—were white, and so were Asriel's. She looked very similar to Asriel save that where short, glossy dark curls adorned Asriel's head, golden waves cascaded down her back from hers. Her eyes didn't shift color, for which I was grateful. They were summer sky blue and her face was delicately heart-shaped, with a delicate flush across her cheeks. She must have been beautiful as a human but she was breathtaking as an angel. She was exactly what I would have imagined as a classical angel, especially when she smiled at me with such sweetness and goodwill.

"I am Ariel and I have come to help you. Do you feel it yet, Amelda? There will be great pain, but it is brief, and then your lessons with me may begin."

Well, at least she was a clear indication that I would not suddenly start spouting 'thees' and 'thous' like her brother did. I was about to ask her exactly what she meant by 'pain,' when suddenly I _did _feel it.

It was so intense that I would have fallen to my knees if Ariel hadn't suddenly slid an arm around me, helping support almost all of my weight. It was like being shot again, only this time it was over and over again. I gritted my teeth but could not suppress a short cry; Ariel's hand was holding mine and the intense pressure helped diffuse the pain a little. Still, I jerked in her grasp and completely involuntary tears came to my eyes. In some distant, vague part of my mind that wasn't frozen with the sensations, I noted that she was far stronger than she looked.

"Bear with it, Amelda. I am sorry, but it is necessary. It will pass soon." She brushed my hair away from my face as she gently lowered me to the ground, or what passed as the ground here.

The pain _was_ fading quickly, and in a few moments I realized I could breathe again. Still, the whole experience had been such a shock. I still shuddered, the memory of pain still vivid in my mind.

She smiled at me approvingly. "A brave soul. Not many can withstand so much suffering for even the barest of moments. Perhaps this was why you have been Chosen."

"What was that?" I barely had the strength to ask, but I had to know.

"All of Seto Kaiba's pain," she explained gently. "You only needed to experience it for a few heartbeats. The bond is now complete."

"So…it came from him?" At her affirmative nod, I didn't know what else to say. Part of me was still horrified that I was being bonded this way to my enemy, someone who probably couldn't even stand to talk to me. The other part of me was utterly appalled that what I had just experienced had come from someone as aloof and controlled as Kaiba. I couldn't reconcile the discrepancy. How could Kaiba have suffered so much, or be suffering it still, and give no outward sign of it?

If it had lasted another moment more, I think I would have just passed out from it. It had been that unbearable, and I couldn't imagine that it had come from his soul.

Ariel saw my expression and seemed to read my thoughts. "He needs you and you need him," she said gently. "Your biggest challenge will be to learn forgiveness, for what has been done to you in the past, but also for your mortal death. Only then can you be truly released and earn your wings."

"But I hate him," I told her, and then I told her something I had never shared with anyone else—the truth, which was what bothered me more. "He hates me. That's all that needs to be said about it."

"Perhaps what you say is true, but it is much more complex than that, is it not? Amelda, you will need to learn to let go of all this ugly hate and fear." She regarded me compassionately, and I found that harder to take than Asriel's formality. "As an angel, you will face many perilous things. It is not every angel that is bonded with a human, and not every human with an angel. Only if there is great need, and," she smiled with lovely charm, "there appears to be so."

I stared at her and thought of how my life had suddenly been flipped upside down. All that I had created with Devastation seemed years and years ago, and although I had only finished a performance when I had been killed, I no longer remembered what song it was that I had sung.

"Will you swear an oath to protect your bonded mortal, Amelda? Will you watch over him?"

I should have laughed at the idea. I should have rejected it all, the wings, everything. But I could still feel the echoes of the pain I had felt and it resonated with my soul. It slipped out naturally, as if I had never had any other choice.

"Yes," I whispered.

As I looked into Ariel's summer sky eyes, I understood that I was an angel now, like it or not. In more than one way, I hadlost my life. Everything that I had known was gone.

That is, everything except Seto Kaiba. He was still part of my life, apparently now more so than ever.

o o o

A/N: **Please ****review!**


	3. Sent from Above

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Three: Sent from Above  
**

_Something the heart must have to cherish,  
Must love and joy and sorrow learn;  
Something with passion clasp, or perish  
And in itself to ashes burn._

— _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  
_

I first appeared in his study, or at least what I assumed to be his study. It had a bed, so it could have easily been his bedroom. Although the glowing red numbers on his clock proclaimed it to be midnight, he was busily typing away on his computer, eyes intently focused on the glowing screen. It took me a minute to find my balance and I was thankful he hadn't noticed me right away, though it wasn't like the little bit extra time I had to prepare myself was going to help much with this.

"Hello, Kaiba." Lame, I know. But there wasn't anything else I could say and the situation was bad enough without meaningless provocation from me.

I watched as he twisted around with a curse and enough shock that I knew my arrival had been soundless. Even if he had been looking directly at me when I had arrived, I probably would have simply appeared as if out of thin air. It was almost amusing to see his reaction, but then I braced myself for a long and difficult conversation.

"What the hell? _Amelda_?" His blue eyes blazed. I could actually _feel _his alarm, rather than just see it in his expression. Even though I had been told that it was just one of the many effects of the bond, I was unprepared for it. With a sudden surge of panic, I checked to make sure that my side was completely shut down. The last thing I wanted was him to feel everything I was feeling.

When I had managed to get things under control, I advanced forward without wasting any time. Having given up on getting a response from me, Kaiba had been about to rise from his chair, but my movements made him sit back down. I stood right in front of him, nearly close enough that his knees would be touching mine.

I took a breath and decided to go for the blunt truth. "Kaiba, I know you're going to think this is crazy, but just listen, okay? I'm an angel now. As in, I've somehow become own personal angel."

I studied his expression and knew that this would be far from simple. I probably would have reacted the same way if _he'd_ shown up in _my_ bedroom at midnight and proclaimed himself to be an angel.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, raising his hands as if to shove me away. Instead, I saw his eyes flicker to the door. It was locked, of course, since I hadn't entered that way. "What are you doing here? How did you get past my security?"

He was ever practical, just as I might have expected. "Relax, Kaiba. Nothing's been compromised. I came from an entirely different place." I laughed, but not very happily. "I don't know if you've ever thought heaven before, Kaiba, but I guess it doesn't matter. You don't need to believe in anything in order to have proof that angels exist. After all, I'm right in front of you."

Kaiba looked torn between physically engaging me and continuing the conversation. Thankfully, he chose the latter for now. "Have you completely lost it, Amelda? What are you talking about?" He was starting to look less alarmed and more confused. I wasn't sure whether I could count it as an improvement.

"I'm perfectly sane, Kaiba. Next time, pay closer attention, will you? I just finished telling you I'm your guardian angel."

He shook his head, frowning. "I saw you just last night and if you think you're anything other than human, Amelda, we really have a problem. What is this really about?" He grabbed my gloved wrist and squeezed it hard.

"Ow! Let go," I hissed at him between clenched teeth. "I'm _not_ human anymore, that's all you need to know." I could have elaborated and it might have helped, but I felt strangely reluctant to talk about my death.

"You certainly feel human, Amelda. Or do angels feel pain?" His fingers tightened even more. "I'm not that gullible, Amelda. Tell me how you got in and what this is all about. Is it another one of your sick revenge schemes?"

"I. Was. Sent. From Above." In three days of instruction, no one had thought told me that I could still very much feel pain. Kaiba was all but crushing my wrist bones, damn him, and I couldn't help but reflect that this was exactly why this whole bonding thing was ridiculous. At least I had picked up a bit of useful information. Even if three days had passed for me, Kaiba had said that he had seen me yesterday night.

"If you've done anything to harm Mokuba—" he warned, switching tracks. Clearly, he just wasn't getting the point.

"Don't be an idiot. Let me go. I can't even leave if I wanted to." I glared at him and he released me; another moment and I probably would have made a good attempt to give him a black eye.

I could see him thinking and could feel that he was at least starting to calm down a little. We would be pretty evenly matched in a fight and if the door was locked, Kaiba's security probably couldn't make it inside this room anyway. Clearly, Kaiba opted to try to talk reason into me. The problem was, there was nothing reasonable about this. "Okay, Amelda. Say I'm willing to go along with this and you're really an angel. Then answer this: why would you be sent to _you _to me? I seem to recall that you wanted me dead."

"If only you were, Kaiba," I snarled, losing my patience. He was asking the same questions that I wanted to ask, and hearing them come from him was just angering me. How had I ended up this way? I was an angel—a guardian angel, to be specific—and bonded to Seto Kaiba. For eternity. Even my nightmares hadn't been so creative. The only thing that kept me from losing it right there was that Ariel had implied that the bond wasn't really eternal, just until some unspecified parameters were fulfilled. She had been deliberately vague, but at least it gave me some hope.

The way I understood it, guardian angels were given specific tasks. So the faster I fulfilled whatever task they had given me, the sooner I would stop being tied to him. I had gathered that at least one of the conditions had something to do with learning 'forgiveness.' Personally, it sounded like some twisted version of one of those stories about moral lessons. And that was just the first, most obvious condition.

"I'm an angel," I repeated to him. "You want proof?"

Kaiba was hidden by darkness; he'd turned around so that his back was to the softly glowing computer. I was absurdly thankful that I wouldn't have to see his face. The problem was, I could still hear his voice, now husky and low with anger. "Yeah, I do, Amelda. I'd like to see what you can come up with."

At last, something I could work with. It might have made things easier if I'd approached this whole confrontation differently, but knowing Kaiba, he would probably think he was hallucinating and end up reacting in a way that would be painful for one or both of us. "As you wish, Kaiba."

I concentrated for a moment but I hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet, and Kaiba's skeptical glare didn't help. To grow—or to use formal terminology, to _substantiate_—wings, I needed to believe in myself as an angel. I'd spent a lot of time trying to deny that very fact and resisting that anything at all had changed for me.

Evidently the outlines of my wings were becoming visible at least, because Kaiba's eyes suddenly widened and an almost comical look of angry disbelief appeared on his face. I turned my head around to look at the ghostly wings rising from my shoulder blades and above my head. Seeing really does help bring about believing, because they solidified instantly after that, all glossy feathers and pure white.

"Those things have got to be fake!" If I wasn't already annoyed with him, I might have found the situation amusing. Being an angel had certainly changed me somehow, because I was far calmer than he was.

"Please, Kaiba, it's getting a little old now, don't you think?"

He stalked up to me and before I realized what he was doing, he ran his hands lightly over my wings. I flinched away before I could help myself. His hands on my wings felt like a caress, a startlingly intimate one. I never imagined that it would feel like _that_. It was subtle, like lips brushing gently across bared skin—definitely not something I wanted my adversary to be doing to me. Except Kaiba wasn't exactly an adversary, and I was having a hard time pretending that he was one when he was making me react this way.

Instinctively my wings came forward and wrapped slightly around my body, forming a protective semi-shield around me. The motion knocked him a few steps back and I inwardly smiled, enjoying his consternation at the strength of that blow.

But whatever little pleasure I derived from a discomfited Kaiba vanished as he leaned closer, and before I could stop him, placed his hand around the back of my neck. Then his hand was slipping lower, below the open neck of my shirt. I was too shocked to do anything but freeze at the intrusion. Then he touched the place between my shoulder blades where heaven and humanity merged, where my wings began.

It felt better than anything else had ever felt in my life and my eyes closed of their own accord. I was helpless as an aching sensation rushed through my veins in the place of blood, flooding my body with its intensity. A low moan slipped out of my throat, startling him and bringing me straight back to panicked reality. I jerked away, taking two dizzying steps back, and felt heat flush my face.

"What are you doing?" I should have sounded accusing. Instead, even to my own ears, I sounded breathy and longing.

Kaiba looked at me with an unreadable expression and a half smile on his lips. He must have not gotten the point because he reached out again. I stared at temptation for a few horrifying moments before I slapped his hand away, amazed to see that I had much faster reflexes than a human. Judging by the wince of pain, I was probably a lot stronger, too.

"Don't touch me, Kaiba," I said as coldly as I could manage, but the burning across my cheekbones told me that I was still flushed with embarrassment. I couldn't believe that I had reacted like that, and to him.

He looked at me curiously and I silently cursed him for being so inscrutable. The only think I could tell was that he looked as if he were about to ask me some questions, questions I was entirely ill-prepared to answer. Something in my face must have appealed to whatever pity a person like Kaiba might have, because he didn't. Kaiba probably had ulterior motives, but the important thing was, he willingly let the matter drop.

"Amelda, if you really are my so-called 'angel,' then quit calling me Kaiba and address me by my name," he said smoothly. I could feel that he was composed and apparently not too fazed by this new development in his life. Beneath that feeling was a lurking bone-deep fatigue that probably had a lot to do with his calm. "Though I assure you, as soon as I can I'm going to send you back to wherever you came from."

"Back Above?" I almost laughed, relieved to be back to our usual antagonistic relationship. "Yeah, well, I don't want to be here either, so if you have any bright ideas, speak up."

He cocked his head slightly, eyes still taking in my wings. "What if you went your way, I went mine, and we'll pretend we never met."

"Can't," I said shortly. If it were so simple, I would have never shown up in his bedroom in the first place. Did he think I was an idiot? For some reason I also found it insulting that he wanted to get rid of me just like that. It was true that I couldn't wait to get rid of him, but to know the feeling was reciprocated pricked my pride. "It's forbidden for me to leave you."

"Who exactly can forbid something like that?"

"It doesn't matter. I understand it only slightly better than you do. But there are rules, and one of them is that we can't be apart."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me. So, essentially, you're telling me that we're stuck with each other?"

"Yeah, until either of us can figure out something better." I didn't sound very hopeful about the prospect, because there wasn't any hope. But if it would make Kaiba slightly more amenable, I was willing to let him believe in it. I wasn't about to tell him extra details, like the fact that since we were bonded, I was able to sense some of his feelings. It was only when he was unguarded though, and he was guarded almost all of the time. I would probably only feel it acutely if he were in danger or pain.

The thought of Kaiba in pain was peculiarly disturbing, and that in itself was worrisome. Was that what was going to happen to me? Would the bond force me to protect him? Even now, thinking about him made me feel on edge, and I knew I couldn't do it.

And…when he had touched my wings… I shivered, and then shoved the whole incident as far back in my mind as I could. I felt defeated. Things had changed so much and so abruptly.

"I really don't know much more than you do," I said softly to Kaiba.

He studied me for a moment and I braced myself for the next barrage of questions. Instead, he reached out as if to touch my wings again. I flinched back and he let his hand drop harmlessly to his lap.

"They're real. You've confirmed that, haven't you? _I'm _real, Kaiba. Your guardian angel."

I wasn't expecting his agreement, but he gave a short nod. "Well, I suppose you need to sleep?"

"What?" The sudden change of topic had me thrown off track. His exhaustion was seeping over to me and I was finding it difficult to concentrate. I wondered how he must be feeling if I was only catching an echo of it.

"Even angels sleep, don't they?"

"I have no idea." I entertained the fantasy of telling him that I had no idea because I had never been an angel before. In fact, I had only died three days ago and I didn't have the faintest idea of what I was doing here, with him, as his angel.

I opened my mouth to tell him just that, but yawned involuntarily and almost smiled when Kaiba turned his famous death glare on me. He obviously though I was yawning at him. I let myself actually look at him and finally noticed what he was wearing—or rather, _not _wearing. No trench coat in sight. How was it even possible?

Since I had backed off, Kaiba could now stand up and did so. "I'll find you a spare room then. In case you haven't noticed, it's in the middle of the night."

I suspected that he was only being so accommodating because he himself was tired and not really thinking too clearly. I could see the dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin, while always pale, had a pallor to it that told me he'd been up a few too many nights ensuring his business ran smoothly. If Kaiba had been in his right mind, I had no doubts that he would have spent another two hours arguing with me before finally calling in security and throwing me out.

As if the thought of security had let me tap into his thoughts, I suddenly sensed what he was thinking. It was a second blow to my pride. He believed that he could handle me himself even _if _it turned out that I had some kind of scheme to get to him or Mokuba.

"Don't underestimate me," I said to him in a semi-unfriendly tone, as he guided me to his door. We must have made more noise that I realized, because when we stepped outside, there was a kid was standing in the hallway, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"_Amelda_? Nii-sama, what's he doing here?"

"…I'll explain later." I could almost hear the disgust in Kaiba's voice and despite being suddenly so tired, I was reminded that normally, we hated each other. Back to square one.

I really couldn't resist. "Actually, I'm his angel. Guardian angel, I mean."

Mokuba looked at me and then yawned sleepily. Well, if _that_ wasn't impressive, kids these days must be insane. An angel—a person who had formerly tried to kill him—dropped into his beloved older brother's room, and he just _yawned_?

"I'm glad he has an angel." He gave me a sleepy smile and I had to admit that he was cute, bordering on adorable. Apparently he was either sleepy enough or young enough to not be concerned by the fact that a real, live angel had turned up. "Is he staying with us then?"

The expression in Kaiba's eyes had softened considerably and I took it all in with fascination. He reached out to ruffle his brother's hair, looking almost as if he would smile. "For now. Go back to sleep, Mokuba. I'll talk to you in the morning and explain everything."

The kid gave me one more look, this time staring at the gigantic white wings behind me. "Nii-sama likes you," he informed me. "Even after that duel."

I tried very hard not to react in any way. Kaiba gave me an amused glance as his brother left, but thankfully made no comment. If I hadn't known better, I would have said that he was a little embarrassed too. He led me to another bedroom and flicked on the lights; it was plain but tastefully decorated. Elegance and style, the usual for Kaiba.

"We'll talk more in the morning," he said without much emotion.

I nodded and closing the door behind me. But to my embarrassment, I had forgotten about my wings—they were still solid, but even solid they felt weightless. My right wing got caught outside the doorframe and I nearly slammed the door on it because I had misjudged the distance.

Kaiba extended an arm to stop the door just in time and it swung open again. I drew my wings in tight around my body, surprised that they could fold rather neatly against my back, and whirled around, realizing what had happened. Before I could say anything, he had closed the door for me.

But I still could remember the expression in those blue eyes and I could have sworn I heard his faint laughter as he walked all the way to his own room.

o o o

Morning was a dismal affair—that is, for me, at least. Kaiba probably thought I provided more entertainment than all the rest of his company goons put together. He woke me at five in the morning, evidently much more awake and argumentative now that he had caught a few hours of sleep, and spent another hour poking and prodding at my wings. The experience was nowhere near enjoyable. I suspected that he finally left me alone only because he had to go have a talk with Mokuba.

If the younger Kaiba brother was as hard to convince as the elder now that it was morning, I could only guess that it would take another hour before I saw the two of them again. Not to mention that it had been humiliating to have to borrow clothes from him, although at the very least, I still had my own trench coat.

The room Kaiba provided me with had a mirror. I looked at myself and turned away, too many emotions filling me for me to examine them too closely. I looked exactly the same as I had ever done, except that now I had those bulky wings. I couldn't even vanish them unless I concentrated all the time, and that was impossible. Hopefully my control would get better with time, but who knew how long that would take? Besides, even vanished, the wings were still there—just very faint, insubstantial outlines that people wouldn't notice unless they knew what they were looking for.

I was halfway down the stairs when Kaiba passed me and the odd look on his face stopped me. I hated it when people gawked at me, even though Valon often pointed out that in that case, I shouldn't wear such conspicuous clothes. Or have become the lead singer of an increasingly popular band. "What, Kaiba?"

"Nothing," he replied absently, not even responding to my irritated tone.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I'd thought that he'd make yet another snide comment about the situation we were in and promised myself that this time he'd pay for it.

"You're wearing my shirt."

"Yeah, well—" I had opened my mouth to retort before I realized what he had said. Hmm. I never knew Kaiba liked to state the obvious. "In case you forgot, you loaned it to me since I didn't have anything to wear. Approximately half an hour ago. Do you have a memory problem, Kaiba?"

I fought not to do anything to increase the smirk I was sure was on Kaiba's face. We continued down the stairs, thankfully without any other commentary, and met Mokuba on the first floor.

It wasn't even breakfast yet and already life with Kaiba was just as miserable as I'd known it would be. I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do as his angel and worst of all, Kaiba seemed to enjoy the prospect of having his rival around for him to torture.

I tried to make my wings disappear but they stubbornly remained exactly as they were. What a welcome to my new life as a guardian angel.

o o o

**Please review** - thanks!


	4. Let Me Fly

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended. Written with all respect towards the creators of Yu-Gi-Oh!

**Four: Let Me Fly**

_A true friend is the greatest of all blessings, and that which we take the least care of all to acquire.__  
_— _Francois de la Rochefoucauld_

Breakfast was…well, the most obvious description was _unusual_. I didn't even normally eat in the morning—at most, I drank coffee—so it was awkward sitting at a table with both Kaiba brothers. Thankfully, Mokuba sat across from me while Seto sat between us, so I didn't have to try to eat eggs while being glared at. It honestly wasn't my fault that I was an angel, but Kaiba certainly seemed to think so.

I ate silently while Mokuba chatted happily away to me, seemingly happy enough with my occasional response. It was probably more than he usually got from his reticent brother. Judging by the look on Seto's face, he wished that his little brother wasn't quite so friendly with me. We did our best to ignore each other, but I saw him looking at me. It happened more than once, so I couldn't have been imagining it.

I wondered if he was still thinking about the shirt thing and it bothered me more than the fact that I had to loan one from him. The last thing I wanted was to seem as if I were living off Kaiba. At the very least, I wanted to meet him on equal terms.

"Can I see your gloves, Amelda? They look so cool!" That earned him a disapproving look which he completely ignored.

"Sorry, Mokuba. Maybe another time," I said, hoping he would forget about it. They actually covered a scar on my right arm that I had gotten during the war. If he saw that, he would undoubtedly want to know more, and I didn't feel like talking about the war or Miruko. I found Seto's gaze on me again and it was unnerving, so my voice was snappish when I asked him, "What?"

"You're still wearing it." I followed his gaze to my neck and realized he meant my necklace with the cracked Orichalcos stone.

"Yeah. It's just a stone now." Truth to tell, I didn't know why I was wearing it. Thinking about the recent past was nearly as bad as the far past. It only made me more irritable and Kaiba picked up on my mood from my eyes, I'm sure. I distracted myself with trying to maneuver myself into a chair, a hard thing to do when you have wings that nearly span all the way across the room.

I wasn't careful enough. The back of the chair rammed up against my wings and they bent at an odd, and painful, angle. I stood up quickly, accidentally knocking it over at the same time. I'd always been pretty graceful, so it was even worse to realize that the wings now made me unable to handle simple tasks like, oh, sitting down at a table.

Mokuba's eyes were shining with excitement but Seto had on his customary smirk as they watched. I flexed my wings again, finding that it felt rather good after the mishap and a delicate feather came loose, drifting across the air to Mokuba. He took it and examined it; I knew from my own previous examination that it was unusually soft and a very pure, brilliant white.

"Amelda really is an angel," he said to no one in particular, but the wonder in his eyes made it sweet. To me, he added, "Can I see?"

Remembering my experience with Kaiba and the examination earlier this morning, I was inclined to say no. Mokuba looked at me with a pleading expression and I felt my resistance melt away. He was just a kid, just like…I deliberately stopped myself right there. "All right."

I brought my right wing forward and he touched one of the larger flight feathers with a fingertip, so lightly I didn't feel it. Trusting Mokuba much more than I trusted the iceberg that he was related to by some odd twist of fate, I relaxed and let him mess with my wings.

At least the rest of breakfast was relatively normal, though it was hard to concentrate on mundane things like food when I kept seeing glimpses of white feathers out of the corner of my eyes. The wings shone incandescently, almost as if there was a soft glow emanating from them, but it was probably just the refraction of light on the glossy feathers. They were beautiful and if I had _wanted_ to be an angel, I couldn't have asked for more. Of course, the problem was, I hadn't had a choice.

Kaiba finished his food faster than we did, so he took out a laptop, flipping it open to check the news from a live stream on the web. Evidently this was normal behavior from him since Mokuba didn't seem surprised. I was glad he had something else to preoccupy his attention, but then the news reporter's story caught my attention.

"In local news from Domino City, the lead singer of local band Devastation was brutally attacked outside of the club _Paradise_ last night. The suspect is not yet in custody but witnesses have described him as a tall man with a medium build, wearing the clothes of an employee of Kaiba Corporation." The camera zoomed in to show a pretty brunette reporter and dark bloodstains on the floor of the alley, as well as yellow police tape.

It was all too familiar to me. I looked at Kaiba, who had noticeably paled. Suddenly it was too quiet and I wished I could think of something to say. Even Mokuba had started paying attention to the news and the reporter droned on.

"At this time the victim is missing. Police take this as a sign of hope that he has not been killed, though several witnesses attest that a gun was fired and may have fatally wounded the singer. His family has not yet been found. If you have any information on the whereabouts of the suspect, please call…"

_Click_. Kaiba shut his laptop and then rested his hands on top of it for a moment. "Is that how this happened, Amelda? Why didn't you just tell me?" His tone made me look up at him but the expression in his eyes was unreadable. Anger, uncertainty—but that couldn't be, could it? Not Seto. He was too confident for such mundane emotions.

"What was I supposed to say?"

"This must have happened right after your show. I met you outside and then left," he said, figuring it out loud. "So then what happened?"

His words confirmed what I had been dreading. He'd known that _I_ was the singer behind Devastation? I clenched my fists just from the thought that Kaiba had probably known all along. I'd thought myself so clever with all my efforts to remain anonymous and he'd probably been laughing his head off at me.

I contemplated confronting him, but it wasn't like I had much to say. "You _knew_," seemed fairly obvious by now. "I didn't _want _you to know!" would probably cause him to shrug uncaringly. The only thing I could really do now was pretend that I'd known all along that _he'd _known.

I pushed away these thoughts just as I realized that he was waiting for some sort of answer. "Nothing. I was shot. Apparently I died. You know the rest."

If anything, my words made his eyes burn even brighter. "Is it true that you killed by a Kaiba Corp employee?"

"I didn't actually see him. He attacked me from behind. He was wearing the KC lapel pin." I looked down, uneasy. It was one thing to face the fact of your own death, another when you feel very much alive. I felt like nothing had really changed, but the world thought of me as missing and presumably dead.

Suddenly I realized all that would entail. Could I ever dance or sing again in front of the crowds? What about Chris, Cobain, all my bandmates from Devastation? And Raphael, Varon, had they even heard yet? _The victim's family has not yet been found_. They were the closest things I had to a family. Were they grieving for me?

"I've got to talk to them. They're going to think I'm dead." I didn't realize I had spoken aloud.

Kaiba's face was carefully blank and I didn't understand what his guardedness was for. "How many people are you planning to tell, Amelda?"

I looked at him in surprise and then realized why he was asking. I couldn't actually pretend that I was completely the same. I couldn't expect to waltz into my old life and resume it as if that fateful night had never happened. Something _had _changed—something huge, something I couldn't conveniently overlook. I was glad that I wasn't dead, but I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at the angels and at whoever had so messed with my life, just when I had finally fixed it.

"I have to tell at least Raphael and Varon," I insisted stubbornly. Mokuba looked at me with wide eyes and when he spoke I nearly jumped, having forgotten that he was there.

"Amelda, this means your murderer's still out there." I never knew a Kaiba could be so blunt. I guess it was a good thing; it meant that he wasn't too much like his brother.

Seto had opened his laptop again and was typing furiously away, his eyes intent on the screen. "If it was a Kaiba Corp employee…"

I wasn't so surprised by his concern. The news wasn't exactly good for his company's PR and no doubt he wanted to clear his own name or something. I thought of the way I'd suspected him of being behind the attack. His next words surprised me more than anything else, though.

"I could've prevented it…I should've," he muttered to himself as if unaware that I was there.

"What?" The incredulous tone of my voice prompted him to look up and for a moment he looked taken aback, as if he hadn't realized that I had heard. A little color flared in his cheeks so that at least he wasn't as pale as before.

"If I'd just left you when you were attacked," he began, and paused for a long moment. "Never mind."

The angels had sent me to learn forgiveness. But it wasn't until then that I had never held him responsible for my death in the first place, or really, anything that had happened to me. Even losing Miruko—he hadn't had anything to do with it. He had just been a convenient target for my inability to deal with my own failure to protect my brother.

I opened the bond between us a little, knowing that if he knew about it he could read me just as I was reading him. My only advantage was that I hadn't told him about it. Through it I felt his confusion and something else I thought was regret.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm here now, aren't I? So I'm not really dead. I'm just not exactly human anymore."

He gave me a considering look, but remained quiet. His reaction to the news actually surprised me a little. I would have expected him not to really care about my death, beyond the fact that it jeopardized, however slightly, his corporation's reputation. It wasn't like we were anything more than acquaintances. There weren't any fond memories between us.

I looked at him sidelong and thought that Seto probably only had acquaintances. If I had few people in my life, at least I had Raphael and Varon. As far as I could tell, other than Mokuba, Seto had no one. Still, the thought of him being lonely made me want to laugh. He was too proud to ever admit to needing someone other than himself, so if he ever was lonely, it was his own fault. He didn't deserve sympathy from me, or from anyone else.

"Kaiba—uh, Seto, can you drive me over to my place? Raphael, Varon and I have a small apartment."

"What for?"

I hesitated, still unsure of whether it was right. "To tell them about me." I wished Ariel had told me about how to handle these things, but then I wondered if she had ever told her own loved ones how she had been transformed. As far as I knew, she wasn't bonded to any human and might not have wandered around on earth much. I shivered as I wondered if Varon and Raphael would hold a funeral for me.

I think Kaiba read my mind or maybe he felt something through our bond without realizing it. "Your body disappeared, you know," he said softly. "The news articles say that they had witnesses swearing that you were dead but somehow when no one was watching you vanished."

"Maybe the angels Above healed me. So I guess I still have my body." I shrugged with a nonchalance I didn't actually feel. He tilted his head slightly and studied me with serious eyes. I really didn't know why he liked to do that so much.

"Is there a reason why I can sort of feel emotions that aren't mine?"

Damn. Damn it, he must have realized. I should have known that someone as smart as Kaiba would figure it out pretty soon. I closed the bond, uneasily wondering what he'd felt from me, and remained silent.

"Well?" he demanded.

"We have a…connection, between us, that lets me know how you feel. It works both ways though. It's part of being bonded. Like I said, I'm your guardian angel." He didn't comment, and I was glad, though also a little suspicious. Kaiba seemed to be keeping his comments to himself a lot. I wasn't sure what it meant.

Seto rose, as did Mokuba, so I did, too. "Come on then, I'll take you. Mokuba, I think Amelda wants some privacy when he's talking to his friends, all right?"

Mokuba sighed but nodded complacently enough, giving me an understanding look. I trailed after Seto, admiring the house as we passed by several rooms. His choice of cars seemed to be predominately black or silver. A motorcycle stood to one side and I blinked, never having imagined that he would ride one. He motioned me over to a silver sports coupe, however, and I got in.

The ride there was silent and I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead. I think neither of us looked at each other the whole time. It wasn't awkward; we just both had a lot to think about.

I led the way up the stairs and then stood in front of the door for a moment, almost ringing the doorbell before I realized my key was probably still in the pocket of my trench coat. I fished it out and opened the door easily enough, not giving myself time to be overwhelmed by doubts.

A red-eyed Varon looked up as I strode into the room, followed by Kaiba. The look of complete shock might have been funny to see if I hadn't seen the wetness on his cheeks. His hair was even wilder than normal, like he hadn't even tried to tame it.

"It's me, Varon. I'm not dead." He looked at me like I was a ghost and at that moment Raphael entered with a mug of some sort of hot liquid. Seeing me, he let go of it and it fell to the floor with a resounding crash and his muttered oath.

"Amelda?"

I realized the quickest way to set them at ease. It was probably what I should have done to begin with when I'd appeared in front of Kaiba. I closed my eyes, hoping to make this quick, and let go of the control I'd kept during the ride here. Just as Kaiba's soft indrawn breath behind me told me that my wings had substantiated, I felt arms wrap around me and opened my eyes to feel Varon squeezing the breath out of me.

"Don't you dare scare us like that again!" he said. Raphael came and pulled me into another hug and I completely forgot that I generally disliked being touched. Then they drew away and I realized why. Spreading my hands wide, as if gesturing that it was not my choice, I said simply, "He did kill me. I'm a guardian angel now. Kaiba's angel."

Twin expressions of disbelief confronted me, but with the proof right in front of their eyes, they couldn't exactly disagree. Varon mumbled something about sharing hallucinations and I moved my wings around slightly with a little concentration.

"Look, I can explain," I told them, and gave them a highly edited version of what had befallen me. When I'd finished, I looked over at Kaiba, wondering what he made of the story. I hadn't spoken to him of my time Above at all; even to Raphael and Varon I glossed over most of it. Besides, I'd found that my memories of that time had blurred. Perhaps they were supposed to, but seeing as how those three days above had been designated for instruction, it seemed stupid to make me forget them.

Raphael started speaking first, after a long pause during which I waited uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of their reactions. He took it a lot better than I would have. "Does that mean that you won't be coming back to us then?"

I nodded slowly, feeling the burn of suppressed tears. It was harder than I thought to leave the life I'd grown into. I guess I never realized how well it fit me, how much I liked it, until it was taken away from me. I still couldn't believe that I wasn't quite human anymore. I hadn't even believed in angels, or thought about them at all. Now I _was _one. Three days wasn't nearly enough time for adjustment.

I cleared my throat but my voice sounded suspiciously husky anyway. "I just came to let you know…you don't have to cry for me. I'm still alive, right? Even if I'm not human."

"Who says we were crying for you, chum?" Varon, of course, pretending to be cool about it. His eyes told a different story though, and I was glad. I don't know, sometimes after one of our particularly intense arguments it was hard for me to accept that he was, underneath it all, a friend that really cared for me. No one ever had, until I met him and Raphael.

Parting was even harder. Seto watched in silence as we stood there, a little tense, full of confused emotions. "I don't know how often I'll be able to see you, but I'll try. It's different now, though. A new life."

"Don't become a stranger, Amelda. We'll be here for you when you need it." Raphael had never looked so protective and instead of resenting it, considering we were only a few years apart in age, I wished it didn't have to be this way.

My voice was soft when I pointed out the obvious. "I'm bonded to Kaiba because I'm his guardian angel. It's as good as a chain around my soul. It actually _hurts _if I'm away from him, and no matter how much I… Well, no matter what, I don't think this is going to change anytime soon."

Kaiba made an odd little noise at that, but I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to pay particular attention to him. I had almost said 'no matter how much I hate him' but I wasn't sure how true it was anymore. I _did _still hate him. It was just a lot more complex than it used to be and it wasn't until later that I wondered what he'd thought when I had virtually equated our bond with slavery.

I regretted everything I had been forced to give up. Just when I'd thought that life was going right for me again, when we'd each picked up the pieces that were left after Doom failed, then I had to start all over again. How much of this new life was going to be a compromise? I wondered if I would still be able to sing, to dance. Could I even dance with these wings? And was I going to live with Kaiba, or what? I didn't think he'd be happy to hear that.

He was the one that brought it up, on the way back. Driving smoothly, he kept his eye on the road when he posed the question. "Are you going to be staying with me now, then?"

"Yeah, I guess so." For some reason his carefully blank expression angered me and the silence in the car began to be irritating.

"You know, I didn't want this either," I burst out angrily after a while. "Technically I'm dead, and they just thought it would be _funny _or something to make me into an angel with these stupid things that keep getting in the way and give me to _you_–"

What I'd just said made me pause but I was so furious I just continued on. "And what the hell am I supposed to do with wings anyway?"

Rather than respond to my outburst or comment snidely about my breakdown, as I had half expected, Kaiba remained completely calm. His voice was silky smooth when he spoke. "Take a look at the birds. Could it be that the point of wings is that they let you _fly_?"

I looked at him as if he were crazy. "Why the hell did they bond me to a complete idiot? Even if these ungainly contraptions _can _let me fly, where exactly am I supposed to be flying? Over Domino City? I can just imagine a kid pointing up there, 'Mommy, Mommy, look, there's an angel flying around the Kaiba Corp tower.'"

"All right, Amelda. I get your point." His tone was still soft. I guess he realized how hard it was for me to adjust. I was angry and a little bitter, and despite what I had thought earlier, I _did _blame Kaiba for some of it. It didn't have to be _his_ stupid employee that killed me. I didn't have to bond with him of all people either.

The ride back to his mansion was uneventful after that and we lapsed into uneasy silence, but his words stuck in my mind. What _were _these wings for? None of the angels had really mentioned them, but they had to have some purpose other that as oversized decorations.

I resolved to try it as soon as I could, away from Seto's eyes. If I ended up making a fool of myself or breaking all my bones by jumping off the top of his mansion, I preferred that he wasn't there to see it.

If I could fly…it still wouldn't be worth everything else I'd lost. Maybe there could be a compromise, though, if my body hadn't been found. Maybe I could somehow get a little bit of my life back, just the important parts, like Raphael and Varon, and Devastation.

Suddenly overcome by the memories, I sat still and stared straight ahead at the road when I sensed Kaiba turning to me. I didn't want him to see the sheen of liquid in my eyes. I just had to take life as it came, even if right now I might completely hate it.

Kaiba despised weakness, after all. So did I.

o o o

A/N: **Please review**. Seriously. Stop reading and take five seconds, please?


	5. Shades of Blue

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement is intended.

**Five: Shades of Blue **

_Everyone who has ever built anywhere a new heaven first found the power thereto in his own hell.__  
_— _Friedrich Nietzsche_

Life was better than I had expected. In fact, despite my earlier worries about how everything was changed, little really did. I showed up at the hospital, claiming amnesia. The doctors were suspicious, but since I kept my wings insubstantial, though I couldn't maintain it for long, there was nothing to prove that I was not as human as I looked.

Seto cleared up my disappearance with the police so I ended up resuming my old life, almost like normal. My attacker had disappeared and no one could have identified him, anyway. I know it worried and angered Kaiba, who spent weeks personally reviewing all employee files. He fired a many people but there was never any certainty that the overzealous fan that had shot me was not still working within Kaiba Corp. It galled Seto to think that my killer was getting money from him.

I think if he could have, he would have just fired everyone. It was impossible to do seriously damaging the company, so he had to settle for the ten percent or so that he fired. I felt bad about being the cause of so many jobless people until he assured me that he was conducting a performance review of all his employees.

The only thing that really changed was that I moved in with Seto. The bond between us prevented me from separating myself from him, so neither of us had a choice. I grew used to hearing Mokuba's chatter at breakfast, seeing Kaiba's slight smiles as he watched his little brother's exuberant attitude towards life manifest itself in strange ways. Mokuba himself evidently had come to see me as more than an inconvenient roommate and treated me more like he did Seto—as a brother.

I got home late one day after visiting Raphael and Varon and slipped into the Kaiba mansion without alerting anyone. My room was in a separate area of the house and I was glad it was. It was slowly driving me mad to be so near him and yet so distant. We were polite to each other—sometimes—and he tolerated my presence because he was forced to. But he never let his guard down around me, except for the rare occasions when Mokuba was there and he forgot that I was, too. Sometimes an expression would come into his eyes and I remembered that it was normal for him to keep his distance. After all, he hated me.

I was in exactly that kind of melancholy mood tonight. I remembered the new CD that Varon had bought for me on whim and decided to see if it was any good. It was the kind of music that I enjoyed most and I decided to see if I could work out any new dance routines. I relaxed, letting my body move to the beat of the song, enjoying the seductive rhythm.

I had the bad habit of imagining that I was dancing with him, pleading with my body for him to notice me. Sometimes I felt altogether invisible in his eyes. A guardian angel, despite those words about duty and protection, was a pretty useless thing. I hadn't done a single thing as an angel. I paid him rent because I refused to live on his charity. I continued to live as normally as we could both expect and I tried my best to be human. I deliberately 'forgot' about my wings, although I soon discovered that any relaxation of my control meant that they would spontaneously appear.

I had also realized the futility of pretending that I didn't care at all about him after I saw him for first time, slumped in sleep over his damnable keyboard, obviously exhausted but still forcing himself to work. I had covered him with his usual white trench coat after debating whether I had the courage to carry him to his bed and risk him waking up. Mokuba had inadvertently told me about how his brother had carried me out of the plane, when he asked me if I remembered what happened after my soul was taken. I tried to cover my surprise and ignore how I wished I did remember.

As far as I knew, he'd never heard me sing or dance beyond the night that I was attacked. The band wanted to take up the recording contract after the near fatal 'incident' I had been involved in and I saw no reason for secrecy anymore, so we did. I'd had notions, in the beginning, of making sure that Kaiba never knew I was even in the city. Maybe I had actually wanted him to be intrigued by a rising star, an anonymous voice.

I closed my eyes but still had a hyperawareness of my own body and how it would look from other eyes. I made a beckoning motion in the dance and smiled, a wicked promise of things to come, and behind my closed eyelids I saw blue. I imagined him at my back, body moving in synchrony, and walked away, throwing a look behind me to invite him to follow.

The sound of metal striking the floor made me freeze and my eyes snapped open to see keys on the floor. Kaiba's keys. I looked up and his blue gaze was steady on me, and I wondered now long he had been standing there, watching me. Did he have any idea of what I had been thinking about? How much I had been drowning in blue?

"New routine?" His tone was a mystery and I wish he would show a little emotion for once. Anything. As usual, though, he was cold.

How did he know it wasn't the one I danced every night? It was probably a lucky guess. I nodded wordlessly and crossed the room to switch off the music. As soon as I did so I wished I hadn't, because without it the silence in the room seemed to be overly loud and awkward. How can silence be loud? The soothing beat of the music was replaced by the erratic, frantic beating of my heart.

"I came to say that if you were hungry, I can make you something in the kitchen." The offer surprised me almost as much as Seto's intrusion into my room had done. It was the first time he had done something where we would be alone, without Mokuba. I guess maybe he wanted to be free to express his hate of me. All that notwithstanding, I still accepted his offer with a nod and trailed him down the stairs.

In the kitchen he got out eggs and began to make an omelette for me. I watched in silence, marveling again that somehow he could make it so good, whereas my food always did not taste quite as wonderful, no matter how much I covertly studied his movements and imitated what he did. I wondered if he was being nice, or if maybe even the great Seto Kaiba was lonely sometimes and wanted another human's presence by his side, even if no one said anything.

"How is Kaiba Corp doing?" I blurted out when we were seated at the table. Wonderful. Could I have asked a stupider question? I looked down at the omelette since I didn't want to see his smirk.

"Pretty well," he answered absently. "The stock has risen a few points this week." His tone, gentle instead of scathing, as I had expected, made me look up. He was looking down into the full cup of coffee that he held.

"What do you do when someone is proud and you want to approach them, but they seem to want to keep their distance from you?" he asked musingly. I tried to see if he was making fun of me or something. For a moment I almost thought he was indirectly talking about _me_. But I haven't been all that proud and if he'd wanted to approach me, he had had plenty of opportunities. After all, our address was technically the same, even if our areas were far enough apart that in the normal, non-fabulously-rich world, we could have lived across the street from each other.

Then it slammed into me with an odd sort of impact, as I remembered whom he had met with yesterday. I had almost completely forgotten about it. He had been in an incredibly bad mood and curiosity had gotten the better of me, so I had actually asked Mokuba what was up. Apparently there was only one person who could provoke that kind of response from him. It made so much sense, all the talk about pride and keeping their distance. He was talking about Yami, of course, his archrival.

"What kind of approach?"

"I don't know. To get to know them better."

It was incredible. It was two in the morning and here we were, and I was still in shock that Kaiba was talking about what I thought he was talking about. He looked preoccupied, but the corners of his mouth were turned down, which would have been labeled a pout in a lesser man, but was a frown in him.

I'd learned that his eyes changed color with his mood, ever so subtly. They were almost always ice blue and cold, but when he was angry they blazed a brighter blue, and when he was tired or perhaps sad – if I was reading him correctly, because maybe he was never really sad – they were a dark, stormy blue, like troubled ocean waters. There was turmoil in his eyes now, and I wondered why. If I have tried to deny my thoughts about him time and again, it was impossible to pretend to ignore the pang of jealousy that I felt when I realized that he might very well be thinking of a certain ruby-eyed pharaoh right now.

They always say that there is a fine line between hate and love, after all. I fiddled with the food, suddenly having lost my appetite, no matter that he had made it for me himself and that it was delicious. I needed a distraction.

"I haven't challenged you in a while, have I, Kaiba?" I don't know what prompted me to do it, except that the thought of him and Yami together drove me a little crazy, and I was feeling reckless that night. I had little to lose, other than make him hate me that much more.

"Oh please, not another duel," he drawled. "Or have you acquired a taste for defeat?"

I wasn't perturbed at all by the mocking tone, having grown used to it by now. "Maybe I've decided to change my strategy." Kaiba glared at me but I met his gaze with an equally intense look. I knew that if I'd looked into a mirror right then, I would see my eyes blazing molten silver.

"And what strategy would that be?"

_To seduce you_, I wanted to say. I was drunk, but not on any liquor known to man. I was drunk on the desperation that had built up over the weeks of living with him in the same house and knowing he was untouchable. I was drunk on the adrenaline that coursed through my veins at the thought of the pharaoh stealing him away from me. Never mind that he wasn't really mine. Never mind that it was perfectly logical for Seto to have fallen for his dark rival. "Scared, Kaiba?"

"Of course not," he snapped.

"Then duel me and let's find out if the former world champion is as good as people say you are." There was no way Kaiba could refuse _that _challenge and I knew it. He was arrogant and I was willing to bet that the use of 'former' was enough to make him fume.

It was, of course. Blue eyes narrowed and turned somewhat cold. Had Yami taunted him with the same thing? Was this the reason why he was up here with me so late, because he had been rejected? I could see it playing out in my mind and for a moment I closed my eyes, hands clenching into fists underneath the table. We were all proud people.

"I've beaten you once, I can do it again," Kaiba stated.

"I'm shocked you don't remember," I said coolly. "Our first duel was a draw. The second you won on luck alone."

"Whatever. The stakes?"

I hadn't considered it yet, but a bitter smile came to my lips. "An unconditional pledge."

He knew what I meant. It would be a favor, a promise without limits. I thought of Yami and Seto dueling, and then of how Yami was the only person that Seto had ever considered a worthy rival. And I knew I just _had_ to win.

o o o

An hour and a half later, I was wondering where my earlier confidence had gone. We were tied, both down to a hundred life points, and with one monster on the field each.

Raphael had told me a theory once, that dueling is less about luck and more about who has the stronger willpower, the desire to win. I'd scoffed at it at first and dismissed it for a nice fairy-tale of good always wins over evil. But I couldn't deny that there might be some truth to it, though I think skill plays a part as well. The Orichalcos was a little like that, too. If you were strong enough, you could harness that dark power to use as you wished. The Orichalcos demanded a sacrifice, however, to use. It was always painful to play, but we grew used to it. I asked Varon once about his first time using it. We'd fought violently and I had never brought the subject up again.

I had always believed that hate was a stronger emotion than love—not in terms of the force of the emotion, but what it made you into, what it let you do. But I was beginning to learn otherwise from my encounters with Kaiba. I had once believed that to duel for someone else was the greatest thing that could be done. Everything that I had done was for Miruko. But it still hadn't been enough.

I dueled now purely for my own selfish reasons. I dueled because he would never even look at someone who was weaker than him. I put my faith in _myself_ for the first time and it was not a betrayal of Miruko's memory, but a strengthening of it. I saw why I had failed with the Orichalcos, why Seto's love for his brother had won over my hatred of Gozaburo Kaiba.

"I play Archangel in defense, and I end my turn!" I knew what card I held before I looked at it, knew it with complete certainty. Funny how I never noticed how many angel cards I had. Destiny? I suppose.

Once, I would've railed against the idea that anything could lay out our lives for us. I would have rejected it without question. Then things had changed and I wasn't so sure anymore.

His three Blue Eyes White Dragons roared as he played Polymerization and fused them into Ultimate Blue Eyes. There was only one thing that could save me now and I knew I had it in my hand. I played it without a word and watched as light flooded the field and my Archangel stood in attack mode and gained two pairs of wings, along with two thousand attack points for each pair.

"Angel's Grace," Seto breathed unbelievingly. He knew how rare it was, I'm sure. It was powerful, but its power did not come without a price. I offered a whispered thanks to Asriel, who had given it to me just before I had been sent to Seto.

"To use Angel's Grace, I give up one hundred of my life points," I said steadily, knowing exactly what it meant. "Archangel, attack with Sword of Faith!"

His Ultimate Blue Eyes White Dragon shattered into a million whirling sparkles of light.

"Draw," I whispered to myself as the remaining monsters slowly dissipated.

Seto appeared calm, though I was sure he was at least a little angry. It was extremely rare to have a duel end in a draw and I had forced it, although I hadn't had much choice. If I had done anything else, he would have won. Still, he wasn't the type to accept defeat and neither was I. I supposed that this was a compromise of sorts. We were on somewhat equal footing, though of course I still wished I had won.

"The stakes?" he asked.

"No one won, so I suppose neither of us gets it."

"Or both." I looked up, surprised, when he continued. "Each pledges the other."

I shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "It's all right with me."

"Really? Is it?"

"Didn't I just say it was?" He seemed to delight in harassing me. No doubt he would have made some smart-ass retort, but Mokuba came in just then, forestalling any continuation of our fight. He smiled when he saw me, ignoring how I was glaring daggers at his brother.

Or, actually, he _had_ noticed. "Wow, nii-sama, you guys are really alike. No one else can even come _close _to glaring the way you do!"

Mokuba had a flair for making the most unusual comments, but this one really was too much. I tried not to gawk at him and then caught Kaiba's expression out of the corner of my eyes and had to choke back my laughter. Even with that added amusement, I recovered before he did. "Seto's an old softie at heart," I said with a smirk, while Mokuba went to go stand by his brother.

"So, who won?" he asked, clearly believing that he knew the answer already, and I saw Seto's hand surreptitiously disappear into his wild hair for a fond ruffle. The child was so unconditional with his affection, it seemed to balance Seto's utter lack of compassion. He was like a tiny, brilliant sun to a great hulking iceberg.

"Neither," I answered for him. "It was a draw." If anything Mokuba looked even more delighted.

It was almost dawn now and I finally realized that Mokuba was in his pajamas and that his hair was even spikier than usual because he'd evidently just rolled out of bed to find us. I was tired, but my melancholia had strangely passed. The duel had been exciting, to say the least, and I'd enjoyed it for some twisted reason.

There was such an _intensity _in him when he dueled, and I took a particular pleasure from knowing that I had his unrivaled, undivided attention when I faced him across the field. For however long or short of a time the duel lasted, I knew that _I _was the one in the center of his world.

"Go back to bed, Mokuba, you have school tomorrow…well, in a couple of hours," Seto said. He guided his little brother towards the door and looked back at me just before he disappeared out of sight.

"Get some rest. We aren't finished yet, you and I."

o o o

That night, I dreamed I was drowning in an ocean of blue, the water weighing me down as I struggled feebly to fly with my sodden wings. I finally woke, gasping as if I would never get enough air, and found my sheets tangled around my wings and the room filled with feathers that I'd shed in my exertions.

The room Kaiba had given me had a balcony, so I opened the sliding glass doors and stepped out, shivering in the cool morning air. The sun rose inexorably and my heartbeat slowed, but I couldn't forget the horror of the clear blue water surrounding me as I sank towards the bottom of the ocean, too tired to fight to reach the surface.

I wondered what I had gotten myself into, sharing a house with Seto. It didn't matter that it was a mansion and that I saw him only a few times a week since our schedules didn't coincide. No house was big enough for the two of us. I wasn't sure if the _world_ was big enough. I wanted to get away from him, but at the same time, I knew I couldn't convince myself to just leave. The bond wouldn't let me. For the hundredth time, I cursed it all: the fact that I was an angel, the fact that I was Seto Kaiba's angel, the fact that I couldn't shake off these feelings that I shouldn't have had.

I watched as the sunlight painted the sky in magnificent shades of reds, oranges, and purples. The rosy hue of the light illuminated my room as I left the balcony, and my eyes fell on the sheet of paper I had out on top of my desk. For a second, I was tempted to write a letter. But what was the use of a letter I would never dare send?

Instead, I took out the folder of all the songs I had written, leafing through them nostalgically, until I came to the very first one, simply titled after the band itself. We often played it to close and it was definitely a favorite with everybody. I looked down at my precise lettering. _And you and I, we're a disaster waiting to happen. Do you realize I won't compromise? Angel, dare to defy—and pain's not weakness, and falling's not a fear. So let it come, just let it come…Confrontation! Devastation! _

Back then, I hadn't had the faintest idea of what was in store for me, or that those words would turn quite so literal. But Seto's last words came to haunt me. _We aren't finished yet, you and I._

No, I supposed that we weren't. We couldn't be, not with the bond still there. But there had to be a different way. Nothing could possibly be so permanent. I just hadn't been searching hard enough for a way to break the bond. I wondered if _he'd _been searching for a way out of this.

I sighed, closing the folder, and then fiddled around with a new sheet of paper, jotting down broken lines, half-formed lyrics, completely annoyed. I wasn't sure whether it was more at myself, or him, or just the impossible situation we were in.

o o o

"Are we going home now?" Mokuba asked his brother, looking eager. Though it was hard for me to imagine why, since he was as full of energy at home as he was anywhere else. Everything except mornings—mornings he was grumpy and slow to wake up.

However much I had resisted at first, it had been impossible not to grow fond of him. Besides, although I certainly didn't mean to use Mokuba, I'd found out quickly enough that, to put it lightly, it drove Kaiba insane when I spent so much time with his brother, and he couldn't. And I took a certain pleasure, these days, in being able to affect Kaiba at all, seeing as how he was getting quite good at pretending I didn't exist.

Kaiba gave a curt nod in answer and continuing flipping through the business contracts that he would eventually go over again at home. I waited as he shut them carefully in his briefcase, curious that he'd asked, actually _asked_, for my presence.

We took the elevator down; Kaiba preoccupied with his own thoughts, as I was with mine, and Mokuba deciding to be silent. No one talked as we went down all 79 levels. Kaiba's office was located at the top of the building, of course, though in my opinion, it was utterly impractical. He'd be the first to die if something like an earthquake or fire should happen. Though his welfare was _not _my concern, or at least I didn't want it to be. Something about human nature, however, associates height with power.

"Kaiba!" A girl's bright voice rang out loud enough that several other passer-bys turned their heads. I didn't recognize her.

"Ignore them," Seto said for my benefit. I turned to look out of curiosity anyway.

"Kaiba?" Yami's questioning challenge had him stopping in his tracks and pivoting in the pharaoh's direction. A familiar blond was by his side, as usual. Recognition dawned on me: Yugi and his support group. Now I vaguely remembered the girl; I hadn't dealt with them so much, since I had been so preoccupied with Doom. Raphael, mostly, had been designated to take care of them. I knew he was still in contact with Yami.

"What's the wannabe-pharaoh doing here? Along with your mutt," Kaiba drawled.

"Don't you _dare _call me that!" The aforementioned mutt, of course. I was finding this rather enjoyable.

Yami was looking at Kaiba and he was returning the gaze as if their lives depended on looking into each others' eyes. I felt rather uncomfortable witnessing it, in light of my recent discovery that Kaiba's interest in Yami extended beyond simply rivalry.

"Damn, Yami, you must be special all right," I said deliberately, looking over at Joey. "You even have your own personal attack dog."

Yami raised his brow, but the corner of Kaiba's mouth twitched. I could have cheered, despite knowing how juvenile as I was behaving.

"Must be the hair; it's just like one of those sheep dogs who can't see past the bangs covering their eyes. Or it could be the low grade intelligence," Kaiba drawled.

That wit could be very entertaining, provided that it wasn't directed at you. I noticed that Yugi jumped to defend his friend, but Yami didn't seem to care much. "Shut up, Kaiba. We're here for something important."

Kaiba spared him an impatient glance. "Well, what do you want? You're the one that came seeking me out. Some people _do _have better things to do, you know." Mokuba looked torn between his loyalty to his brother and wanting to greet his friends. The latter won out, leaving Yami free to talk to Kaiba while the rest of his group was catching up with Mokuba. Since I was standing next to Kaiba, it put me in the first group by default.

I looked at Yami and could understand the appeal that he had for Kaiba. The two of them had the same kind of aura and with Yami's dramatic coloring, he looked amazing next to the brunette. And, of course, everyone knew their history and their rivalry. The dignity in Yami's bearing, the confidence in his smile, it all made him hard to overlook. And the smile he turned to Kaiba now was sharp and deadly, the expression in his eyes demanding.

"The Shadow Realm is in danger of joining with this world," Yami said, his eyes locked with Kaiba's in some kind of intense battle. It was as if the former pharaoh—if that was what he was, but then again, I couldn't explain the Orichalcos—was daring Kaiba to object to his words, to the possibility of magic.

"And?"

"Some of the monsters trapped within the Realm are being released and they are hungry for souls. They will target individuals who have entrapped them."

"Are you asking for my help, Yami?"

The other duelist stiffened, eyes narrowing at Kaiba's causally framed challenge. "I'm merely warning you of the possibility of your own personal demon, Kaiba. Consider it a courtesy."

"Funny, I didn't think you cared what happened to me," Kaiba responded curtly.

I sucked in a breath just as Kaiba looked away from Yami, seeming to realize that he'd given away more than he had intended in that slightly bitter sounding statement, which was definitely out of character for him. There was even a faint flush of color in his high cheekbones, which I saw because his gaze had landed on me when he had turned. I quickly turned to Yami, feeling as if I were intruding on a personal moment, which it basically was.

Yami still hadn't responded. He was looking at the floor but when he looked up, there was nothing in his expression to hint at what he was thinking. "There are monsters that you wouldn't believe in unless you met them, Kaiba. Take care of yourself."

Without waiting for an answer, he looked over to Yugi, who responded to some kind of signal and the whole group left as abruptly as they had come. So we left as well, but I stole at glance at Kaiba to see how he was taking it all. He looked troubled, but then again, his own gaze was still in the direction of Yami's departure.

o o o

**Please review.**


	6. Skyward

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended.

**  
S****ix: Skyward**

_When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.__  
— __Leonardo da Vinci_

It was hard to tell whether Mokuba or I was surprised when Kaiba suddenly announced, as we finished dinner, that he would be taking me to the mountains. He'd kept perfectly silent all day. I'd been waiting for some big revelation ever since he'd called me to his office, but his calm statement was still completely out of the blue.

"The mountains?" I repeated stupidly, just to make sure that I had heard right. He brusquely nodded. To his credit, he was absolutely unfazed by the two pairs of eyes staring at him in shock. I took some comfort in the fact that Mokuba was as stunned by his brother as I was. Of course, after my initial astonishment had faded, I realized how many problems that innocuous announcement presented.

"That's awesome! When are we going, Seto?" Mokuba was already excited and had had sprung out of his chair to give his standoffish brother a hug. Despite not really returning the embrace, Kaiba permitted himself a smile at Mokuba's exuberance. Some of it faded as I watched, and he seemed unusually hesitant when he finally answered.

"Actually, Mokuba, I was hoping you would stay home," he said, sending another shock through me.

"What? But…_why_?"

Kaiba gave a not quite careless shrug. "I want to take Amelda up alone. We have something to do together."

I twisted in my chair to look at him in disbelief, my wings nearly causing damage as I moved them in agitation. Mokuba said something to Kaiba, too softly for me to hear. As my mind whirled with confused thoughts, they carried on a heated, but soft argument that I pretended not to hear.

I wanted to leave and give them some privacy for one of their rare disagreements, but doing so would only draw more attention to me. I realized something right away. For the first time since I had joined them in their home, Mokuba was angry with me. I completely understood why, because Kaiba _never _took any time off from his work, and now that he had, he was planning to spend an entire weekend with me in the mountains—without his brother.

What was he thinking? Mokuba would be left to stay home alone. It was probably impossible not to see it as a kind of abandonment, and instead of directing his hurt at Seto, Mokuba had clearly chosen me instead. I couldn't blame him, even though I hadn't known anything about Seto's plans.

They kept arguing until Seto's sharp "Mokuba, that's enough!" sent his brother storming off to his bedroom. I couldn't remember ever hearing Kaiba speak to his brother like that and part of me wanted to yell at him for doing so. The other part of me was still turning his cryptic words over in my mind—what possible reason would Kaiba have for taking me on some camping trip in the mountains?

As far as I could tell, he still barely tolerated me around in the house. It had gotten a little better after our duel, but calling it 'friendly' would be a stretch. Nor had he asked me about going on this trip, he'd just said that we were going.

It was that thought that prompted me to speak first, into the oppressive silence that had sprung up as after Mokuba's departure. "Kaiba, I'm not going with you to wherever."

Kaiba looked up at me, surprise flickering into his eyes, as if he had really expected that I would just go along with it. "Why not?"

I gaped at him. "Did you somehow manage to miss how upset you've made Mokuba, for one thing?"

He looked a concerned, but not that much. "I'll make it up to him, and Mokuba will understand after I explain it to him more. He knows that I'm busy."

"Exactly! I don't care how busy you are, don't you see how lonely he is sometimes? He deserves some attention from you, some _time_. You're the center of his world." I spoke without thinking, but flushed as soon as I realized what I'd said.

Kaiba stood up, so I rose hastily as well, and he strode over to my side of the room until he stood less than a foot away from me. The electric sparks flying from his eyes told me that I'd struck a sensitive nerve. But I didn't care if he was going to pick a fight with me too—Mokuba deserved better than a casual dismissal. I couldn't even imagine why he was acting this way.

"Don't you _dare _presume to tell me what Mokuba needs, Amelda. You don't understand this at all."

"Well, explain it to me then! Why are you doing this to him?" After so much time spent studying him, I knew that Mokuba was probably the one thing that meant everything to Kaiba. The company was important to him, too, but Mokuba most of all. So I didn't understand what he could possibly regard as higher priority than his brother.

"Amelda," he snarled, but then stopped himself, probably from saying something he would regret. "I thought you might like to be _happy _for a change."

"You—" I blinked, not following his logic at all. "You what?"

"I thought you wanted to learn to fly." His face was turned away, to the side, so that he wouldn't have to meet my eyes. The set of his shoulders was unmistakably tense. I looked at the high, perfect cheekbones and saw an unmistakable flare of color.

"I…uh…"

"If that's not what you want, I might as well go tell Mokuba that it's cancelled." His long strides took him to the door and I followed him without thinking.

"Kaiba, wait," I called out after him. "If you're sure that Mokuba is all right with it, then…I'd like that."

He turned around and assessed me for a moment; I felt pinned underneath his gaze. Try as I might, his closed expression was a mystery to me.

"All right. I'll talk to him." But his voice was half-hearted, and I realized that something other than our conversation had caught his attention. He was looking at me. No, he was looking behind me. I was just about to turn around when he moved toward me, close enough to make me want to back away.

Before I realized what he was doing, he reached out with his hand and stroked my wing, almost from the top of the tall arch, nearly two feet above my head, and all the way down. I quivered under his touch, feeling as if electricity had run through me, and couldn't suppress a gasp.

He was staring at me oddly, as if extremely curious, and I glared back at him, feeling as if I were some exotic animal on display. He had seen once already how it affected me and he knew it was as much of a violation as a kiss would have been, damn it.

"What the hell, Kaiba," I said, but it came out sounding more confused than angry. "I told you before, don't touch me." It occurred to me that the best thing I could do was pretend that it wasn't as big of a deal as it was. Kaiba clearly hadn't meant anything by it, though to my surprise, a small smile was on his lips.

"I felt that," he admitted after a moment.

Now thoroughly alarmed, I scrutinized his expression for any hint of his thoughts. No luck. "What do you mean?"

"Through the bond," he said causally. I cursed out loud before I could stop myself, furious that I'd let my attention wander enough to let him feel my emotions. But when I did a mental check, I found that my side was closed down as much as always. Unless his side was open?

"What did you feel?" I asked warily.

"Your wings are very sensitive, aren't they," he said, ignoring my question. "You know, I've been researching them."

"You've been researching about my wings?" I asked skeptically. "Did you find any, uh, _reliable _sources? Eyewitness accounts or something? Other people who have touched angel wings?" I didn't bother to tone down the sarcasm, bothered by the idea that he had been taking an interest in my life, and even more bothered by the secret feeling of pleasure that gave me.

"Don't be silly," he said, annoyed. "I've found a lot of useful information on wings. In fact, I think I have something for you. Wait here."

"Thanks, but I don't need whatever you think you have. I'm going to my room, Kaiba. I hope you talk to Mokuba and work things out." I deliberately made my way to the other door in the room just so that I wouldn't have to walk past him and chance another touch. He was leaning against the frame of the door; unless I made my wings insubstantial, it was impossible for me to pass, and I didn't have the concentration I needed right now.

"I'll see you there, then."

That had the effect to stopping me. Kaiba. Coming to my room. I whirled around, about to tell him that I'd really rather just stay here, but he had already left.

I made my way back to my room, grabbed my folder of songs, and flung myself on top of my bed, on my stomach. I tried to occupy myself with some new lyrics or even a melody, though that was usually Emerson's department more than mine, but I was just too distracted. Thankfully, Kaiba knocked on my door before I worried myself to death. I tried not to be too prompt in answering it.

He was empty-handed. I don't know what I expected, but it was more than simply his presence and my mouth went a little dry when I wondered what he really wanted.

He leaned with cat-like grace on my doorframe. "I'll give it to you when we're in the mountains. I'm not sure it's right for you, yet," he said gravely.

"What do you want with me, Kaiba?" I deliberately wanted to provoke him and I knew he was touchy about exactly what name I used. It was stupid, after all. Last names were almost always used, unless you were family, or something.

"I thought we were beyond the name thing," he said predictably, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Fine, _Seto_. Are you trying to mess with my mind or something?"

He at least had the grace to look abashed, and it was an expression that didn't really suit him. "I really have something to give you, but I realized that I need some more research."

His eyes strayed over my wings again and I reflexively twitched, shedding a couple of feathers. With a sigh, I bent down to pick them up, nearly knocking my head into Kaiba's chin when he did the same thing. I glared at him as I straightened, holding one of the feathers, but the feather he held in his hand absorbed all of his attention.

He frowned a little; he looked deep in thought over my feather and it was almost funny. The feather wasn't as pristine as it had been. It had been shredded once or twice and had stuck together not quite properly, giving the edge a ragged look. Still, it glowed an enchanting white and I was irrationally proud of it.

"Can I have this?" Seto held it up, twirling it. It was around a good thirty centimeters long.

The question took me by surprise. "Suit yourself," I replied, before I could wonder what he would want with a feather. I didn't know why he even bothered to ask, since I was sure there were more than a few feathers drifting around that I hadn't managed to catch. I had lost a lot lately, but I assured myself, to soothe my alarmed dignity, that angels didn't molt. We weren't commonplace _birds_, after all.

"I've spoken to Mokuba and he's fine with the trip, so you should pack. We're leaving tomorrow morning. He _did _say that you had better use the time wisely to learn to fly, because he's going to want to see you."

My heart gave an extra fast, irregular beat, and I blamed it on my nerves. It was one thing to have wings, and it was another to be expected to _use _them when I didn't have the slightest idea _how_.

"Tomorrow morning's pretty soon," I said cautiously.

"It's Saturday tomorrow, Amelda," Kaiba said exasperatedly. "I have Saturday and Sunday arranged to be off, and _only _those two days. You want to spend the whole weekend, right? Unless you're confident that you'll get the hang of it right away."

I flushed, cursing my pale complexion that made me a victim of embarrassment so often. Something in my eyes, however, made his smirk disappear. He added reluctantly, "I'm sure it'll be fine," as if to soften his earlier words.

"Has it occurred to you get that I might get seriously injured, trying to throw myself off a cliff? I might even die for real this time," I grumbled, half serious.

"Don't worry. I have ideas for that," Seto said with a confidence I didn't share.

"Care to tell?"

"Tomorrow, Amelda. Get some rest." He left, deliberately turning off the lights and plunging me into darkness. His disembodied voice came from somewhere near the door. "Sweet dreams."

I made no reply, still rather aggravated. The night was more welcoming than I had thought, however. Despite my doubts, I fell asleep almost immediately, soothed by his blessing.

o o o

Everything had gone well, better than I expected, even, right up until we were hiking up towards whatever abandoned cabin was on this mountain. My imagination ran rampant in the silence. I could almost imagine Kaiba trying to make me camp out in a tent, but since I couldn't really picture him doing the same thing, I figured I was safe from that at least.

The cliff to one side of us didn't exactly help; it was a sheer drop of at least a good two hundred feet, and just looking at it made me feel very human—in fact, a very earthbound human. When we stopped for a moment for Kaiba to consult his map, I eyed it and didn't quite hold back a shudder. I didn't even care if Kaiba saw and thought that I was a coward.

"If you think I'm going to jump off a cliff for you, you're insane," I said to him when we resumed climbing. All right, so there was a trail, and we weren't exactly climbing…but I was really not getting along with this mountain, not at all, in fact. It was windy, and his bangs flew right into his eyes when he looked up to see what I was mumbling about. The clear light of day emphasized his unholy beauty and made his blue eyes a beautiful shade of sapphire.

"I mentioned that I have some plans," he said in a low, rough voice that nearly made my breath stop. I didn't know if it was because of the bond or not, but the degree to which he was affecting me was getting ridiculous. I deliberately looked away from him and down the drop, but between Kaiba or possible death, it was rather hard not to resist Kaiba. In fact, that could have possibly won the understatement of the year, I thought glumly, as the drop became even farther, if that was possible.

Oh wait, it _was_ possible, because we were gaining altitude.

I've never had a fear of heights. It would be a cosmic irony if I developed one now, considering that I was equipped with wings and was supposed to be an angel. Then again, I've never had a fear of heights because I've never thought about throwing myself off a mountain, in hopes that the absolute nothingness of air was going to save me. I wondered, yet again, if there wasn't a way out of this.

"In about five more minutes, we should reach the cabin," Kaiba muttered, voice lost to the wind.

I made a noncommittal sound and trudged on dully, already sick of the mountain. All my dreams of becoming one with nature—all right, I'm not sure I've ever dreamed anything of the sort, seeing as how I _love _technology, more so every second, in fact—had vanished.

Kaiba was still wearing his white trench coat, despite the fact that it was freezing up here. I didn't feel it because angels burned hotter than humans, but I was willing to bet that if I touched his hand, it would be cold. Really, the things people do for fashion. I gave his clothes a closer look. He had on a black turtleneck sweater underneath, which clung to him far too appealingly for my peace of mind.

It actually took what felt like an hour more to get to the cabin, but once we got there I discovered it might not be so bad after all. It wasn't cramped like I had expected, for one thing. Two rooms, incomparable to the Kaiba mansion, but I figured it was fine since there were two people. Sure, only one of them was the bedroom, but I won't die from sleeping in a bed next to his. Much.

It was almost dark outside. I was willing to bet that Kaiba hadn't expected the trip to take so long; it was due to a variety of reasons. I had spent quite a while with Mokuba in the morning, so we had a late start. I couldn't help feel a little dismayed at the thought that I would now only have one day to practice and to get it right.

Kaiba busied himself with heating the place up until it was almost uncomfortable for me. I began the long process of shedding some layers, inwardly sighing again at how complicated this task had become once I had gained wings. I could always make them insubstantial, as I was forced to do whenever I was outside the Kaiba mansion, but the fact remained that my clothes had to be altered to fit. I struggled half-heartedly, wondering if I should just bear with the heat.

A touch on my shoulder had me twisting instantly around, although I knew who it was, of course. Kaiba looked surprised, but simply said, "I thought I'd help you."

A dozen retorts came to mind, most of them concentrating on the fact that usually sane people didn't help other people take off their clothes unless they had…let's just say, ulterior motives. I wisely kept my mouth shut and simply nodded my consent. Kaiba didn't touch me at all and I relaxed in slow degrees.

Which was completely useless in the end, since he started touching my wings again. Soft, light touches that almost tickled. "What are you doing?" I gasped.

"If you're going to fly, your wings should be in their best condition, don't you think?"

Said wings twitched irritably as his hands continued to run over them in long, slow strokes. I couldn't decide if I hated his intrusion or wanted him to keep on doing it. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kaiba."

"You've been losing a lot of feathers lately," he informed me, as if I hadn't spent several hours agonizing over that very fact, afraid I'd end up looking like a plucked chicken. "You're molting, Amelda."

"I am NOT!" He had said it so calmly! I jerked my wings away, one hitting him and causing him to lose his balance, and a few more feathers came loose, to my dismay and fury. In my haste to get away, I swept him off his feet again, and I saw with horror, too late, that he was falling. My wing stretched, he fell into it, and I fell with him, wincing as he landed right on top of my wing.

We'd at least landed so that it wasn't in an unnatural position, but I wasn't thinking of my wing at all for a few minutes. I stared at Kaiba across the white expanse of my wing, feeling his delicious weight on it, and he stared back. Time stopped. Well, maybe not, but I'm positive my heart did.

He rolled of my wing and scrambled up and then towards me, shaking my arm, probably worried because I wasn't doing anything to get off the floor. "Amelda, are you all right? Your wing—"

"It's fine," I said, dazed, but not because of the fall. He hoisted me up on my feet, seemingly stronger than I would have given him credit for. My bones had changed and I was much lighter now, as suited a being designed for flight, but still…of course, if he could carry me when I was human, I suppose an angel would be nothing in comparison.

"Are _you _hurt?" he said, peering at me, cursing under his breath when I didn't immediately respond. "Amelda?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, too," I managed to say. He gave me a suspicious look, and I spread my wings out to show him. I really hadn't sustained any damage, but I could see guilt flicker over his face. It was an unusual expression on him, and I was immediately sorry that I had put it there.

"I really am, Seto." I suddenly remembered that he'd fallen, too, and it was my turn to assess him. He looked puzzled at my scrutiny, and then he realized what I was doing and started laughing. The sound rang free and clear in the room and I was lost again. It had to be the bond. It couldn't be just that I'd never heard Kaiba laugh like that, ever.

Amusement still danced in his eyes when he gestured for me to follow him into the bedroom, and then again gestured for me to sit. "I didn't mean to offend you when I said you were…losing feathers. I never would have thought that angels had such fragile egos."

"I don't have a fragile ego," I informed him, well aware that I was behaving oddly. It was his fault, though, for being so attractive, and at the same time, so completely infuriating. "You're just insulting."

"Well, there _was_ a point behind it all. I was trying to get at what I'm going to give you. I was reading up on bird wings."

"I'm not a bird," I tried to protest, but he cut me off.

"Yeah, you're obviously not. But your wings need some of the same treatment, and you don't produce your own oil, as far as I can tell."

"Oil?" I stared at him. "_Oil? _What are you talking about?"

Kaiba actually smirked. "Birds produce oil from special glands they have, and when they preen, they use their oil to smooth their feathers and strengthen them. It's most essential for waterfowl because the oil makes their feathers waterproof."

I looked at him in disbelief. "So, what, you want me to put _oil _on my wings? Are you positive about this Kaiba, or have you simply gone over the edge?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure, Amelda. I didn't want to bring it up before I was, but I took the feather you gave me and did some more research. Stay here for a minute." Kaiba disappeared into the other room as I tried to absorb all the information. I was barely beginning to accept it when he came back, both hands holding what looked like an oversized crystal perfume bottle.

"Take off your shirt."

I sat unmoving, wondering for one giddy moment whether someone had switched Kaiba for a fake Kaiba as we were coming up the mountain. By the time I looked up again (to examine whether Kaiba could possible be a very realistic, cleverly made robot) I found that he was only a few inches away. His long arms snaked around me and ripped apart the Velcro that I'd used to accommodate my wings. I let out a surprised yelp and fell back on the bed, sheets cold against my bared skin.

"Kaiba?"

He looked at me inquiringly and seemed to realize that my thoughts were very far away from the gigantic decanter he was opening. A couple more seconds, I'm sure spent on pondering what he'd just said, and he suddenly took a seat next to me on the bed, laughing his head off.

I didn't know whether to be angry or mortified. Embarrassment won out pretty quickly and I turned away from him to glare at the wall. My shirt caught my eye, but I wasn't about to let Kaiba see how clumsy I was when I was trying to maneuver around my wings, so I opted to stay still. When he finally stopped, I was still fuming.

"I can't believe you thought… You actually thought…"

I turned to glare at him, daring him to finish the sentence, and my expression made him laugh again, a low chuckle this time.

"All right, that was my fault. I didn't think you were going to jump to conclusions like that. I was just going to help put the oil on you and knew you wouldn't want to ruin your shirt."

I eyed him distrustfully, suddenly aware that it wasn't a good idea at all for him to be touching my wings, platonically or otherwise. "Kaiba, I think I can manage by myself."

"I doubt you can reach some places without help," he said, his tone lower. It made my heart beat a little faster. He had a point, but...

"I'll be fine," I insisted. "Just give me the oil. I'll wait until we're back in Domino and Emerson can help me or something."

His eyes narrowed. "Who's Emerson?"

I hadn't been trying anything at first, but as I looked at his unexpectedly serious expression, I suddenly realized the potential in this. It satisfied my mean streak to provoke him, and really, it was a kind of achievement to know that I could. If the bond hadn't existed between us, forcing us together, he wouldn't have cared the slightest bit about me, and that rankled—especially considering how I felt about him.

"Emerson Cobain, my bandmate from Devastation," I said casually, as if surprised he didn't know. "He's an awesome electric guitarist, and he's the one who works with me all the time to put lyrics and music together. He knows everything about how I ended up like this. I couldn't hide it from _him_."

I looked covertly at Kaiba out of the corner of my vision and was satisfied to see that his eyes had become a frosty shade of blue.

"I see," he said shortly. Common sense should have told me to stop right then, but it was just too tempting to know that, for once, I had the upper hand over Kaiba.

"Yeah, Emerson's always careful with my wings when we're together." I knew exactly how suggestive that sounded, how it could be misinterpreted. It was true that Emerson had found out the whole story when my control had slipped one day and my wings had appeared. He _was_ careful around me, but that was because even before I'd become an angel, he knew I didn't like to be casually touched.

"Well, you aren't going to fly unless your wings are in perfect condition, so I guess we might as well go home now," Kaiba said coolly, an edge to his voice, but nothing else betraying the stormy anger I saw clearly in his eyes.

His reply suddenly made everything seem cold—the room, the breaths I inhaled in the silence, the bed beneath me. I always had the bad habit of underestimating him. The silence stretched on as I tried to think of a way to repair the damage I'd so deliberately done. I didn't know what had possessed me to try to annoy him; I suppose there was always the fear that he wouldn't care at all.

After a while, the bed shifted as he rose, and he dispassionately picked up my shirt. "Do you want help with this?"

I could have handled anything but his polite consideration. My throat tightened with emotion, as I looked at him, a few feet away. He might as well have been miles away, because that was how distant he felt.

I silently nodded and he approached unwillingly, looking as if he regretted the offer. Kaiba held out the shirt to me and I took it from him, but I couldn't seem to force myself to begin putting it on. The oil decanter on the tiny bedside table seemed to mock me with every glint of light off its crystalline shape. Kaiba saw me looking and bit his lip. It was such a human thing for him to do that I forgot my fear.

"Seto, please?" In a moment of desperation, that was all I could manage.

The words were choked, but he knew what I was asking. To my relief, he didn't reply, but instead wordlessly reached out to take the decanter. He opened it, pouring some of the oil into his hand. I knew he was still angry with me, but suddenly I could breathe again.

I shivered when his hands smoothed over my right wing. He tried to stretch it out so that every long, hard primary feather was exposed, but I instinctively resisted, trying to draw them closer to my body, less vulnerable to attack.

"Trust me," came his low command from behind me. I deliberately relaxed and he continued, painstakingly going over each and every feather. Kaiba's touch was impersonal, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, except when he got to the base of my wings, where I was most sensitive.

The process was slow and as he worked, finally moving over to my left wing, I had to fight to stay awake. I was tired from the trek up the mountain and also from the strain of constantly guarding myself from Kaiba, keeping the bond between us tightly shut off. The third time I jerked awake after falling asleep and tilting forward, Kaiba sighed.

"I'll be perfectly clear this time so there won't be any…interesting…misunderstandings. I really think you'll be more comfortable if you just lie down on the bed and sleep while I finish up."

I opened one eye to look at him and got the distinct feeling that he was amused at my expense. I was so exhausted, I didn't even care. I merely let myself fall on the bed face down, the soft pillow utterly heavenly underneath my head. But oddly, now that I was prone, I was more awake than before, despite my closed eyes. A few minutes later, I regretted not falling asleep, because I didn't want the memory of how good it felt when he finally reached the juncture of my wings and shoulder blades.

For the first time, I think I was glad of what had happened to me. I'd simply accepted being an angel, after putting up a long fight, but now I spared a moment to be thankful that I hadn't simply died. After all, I never would have had the chance to be here with Kaiba.

I dimly realized that I could no longer feel anything on my wings, just before he placed his hand gently on my back and caressed the entire length of my spine once, very lightly, the oil slick between his hands and my skin. I think the heat of my body surprised him, though I'd told him that I had a higher temperature than humans.

"Goodnight," I thought I heard him whisper huskily, but I was fast falling asleep, and I could have only imagined it.

o o o

The ground beneath the ledge wasn't too far off. Well, it was only three or four stories down, which probably isn't enough for death on impact. That wasn't as comforting as it should have been, considering I would rather have chosen a quick, painless demise over a drawn-out, torturous one.

"_This _is your plan?!" I asked rather hysterically, balancing on the edge with arms and wings stretched out fully. "You really have a death wish for me, don't you?"

"It should be instinctive," Kaiba said, unperturbed. "You've seen birds take off before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I've _seen _them, but I never thought I'd be insane enough to try to _imitate _them! Tell me again, why can't we start from the ground?"

"Because it's probably ten times harder." He was behind me, so I couldn't see him, but I could imagine his trademark smirk well enough. The bastard sounded almost smug.

"I don't see _you _about to jump off."

"Because I don't have wings like you do. I'm the human in the relationship, remember?"

"I don't think I can do this," I confessed. Funny how much easier it is to blurt out things when you're leaning over a sixty-foot drop. I felt like an ugly, ungainly thing that definitely did not belong in the sky. I had been clumsy ever since I got my wings. What if it only got worse in midair? By the time that question was answered, I might be a lovely red smear on the dirt below.

"Don't be silly, Amelda."

I knew if we talked any longer, I would just lose my nerve, so I took a deep breath. It was probably stupid to close my eyes, but I did it anyway, and I let myself tumble forward.

It was a windy area and that was probably why Kaiba had picked it. Immediately, I felt an odd pressure against my wings, and fear took over. My eyes popped open to treat me to the sight of the land very, very far below, and I beat my wings frantically, incidentally also waving my arms around. I managed to hang in midair for a while, enough to slow my descent, so that when I landed on my feet, the impact wasn't too painful.

I still crumbled to my knees and might have mindlessly started babbling about how much I loved the earth, if I hadn't remembered that Kaiba was up there, no doubt wondering if I had died. It would have been his fault anyway if I _had_, I griped to myself. Rising unsteadily to my feet, heart still pounding like mad, I managed to wave my arms and flap my wings enough that he looked convinced that I wasn't injured. No, well, I amend that. My pride might have a different opinion.

Up until this point, some part of me still believed that flying would come naturally to me. I'd pluck up the courage to do it and I would succeed. Despite all my fears of failure, I had never really believed that I wouldn't be able to keep myself aloft. Disappointment rushed through me and settled over my wings like a heavy weight as I hiked up to where Kaiba was waiting for me.

He looked at me and chose not to say anything, although I had half-expected him to make some sort of idiotic, encouraging comment, like "you _almost _flew!" Instead, he gestured to the cliff and I walked resolutely over to balance yet again on the edge. Now that I knew that I wouldn't immediately die, I felt a little bit better when I looked down. The wind made a hollow sound, which suited me perfectly well, since I was feeling quite hollow within, too. I had no intention of giving up, though.

It was a good thing I didn't, since I must have jumped off that ledge thirty or forty times in the next four or five hours, to no avail. I always landed perfectly fine, but in the air I couldn't relax enough to let my instincts take over. I had no doubt that my body _could _fly. I just didn't know how to get it to. In other words, I might be in the body of an angel, but I was still thinking quite like a human.

Sometime between the fortieth and fiftieth attempt (I lost count rather early on), I had a wondrous idea, probably born in part by Kaiba's unnerving patience. "Kaiba?"

"I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, _Seto_, I think I know a way to motive me to fly."

He looked doubtfully at me, and I smiled a little guiltily, wondering if he somehow knew what I was thinking. "Why don't you jump off the ledge, and I'll catch you?"

He stared at me for a second, and then said, quietly, "You're joking, right?"

"No." I had never been more serious in my life.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to put my _life _into your non-existent flying skills?"

"The point is that they won't be non-existent after this." Kaiba came to stand besides me on the ledge, and I took the opportunity to appeal earnestly to him. "Look, I really think it'll work. Like you said, you're the human half. I'm supposed to be the angel that's protecting you. Don't you think my instincts will take over if I see you falling?"

"You really _are _serious about this, aren't you?"

"Deadly serious," I said with a straight face. He smiled humorlessly. "Look, the worst thing that can happen is that I still won't be able to fly, right? It's not like you'll be hurt, I swear."

"Have you ever carried a human with you before?" he asked pointedly, one perfect eyebrow raised. He didn't seem that frightened at the prospect of falling to his death, and I immediately remembered how I'd balked at the same thing, not too long ago.

"Well, no. But I know I'm strong enough to lift you," I said confidently. Until that moment, I had actually been joking, but there was real potential in this.

He seemed to be deep in thought, but when he turned to face me, I saw that he had on his odd half-smile again. I looked back at him warily, noting absently that the color of his eyes was a pure, crushed blue today.

"I won't let you fall," I said as persuasively as I could, but I thought the effort was wasted on him. Kaiba wasn't the kind of person to let others persuade or dissuade. He made his own decisions, and simply expected others to accommodate. "Trust me, Seto."

"I do."

And with that, he jumped off.

I flung myself into the air after him in the next second, not quite believing that this was real, and cursing myself to die a hundred different deaths for coming up with such an idiotic idea. Once in the air, time seemed to slow down to a speed that was manageable. I knew exactly where Kaiba was because for once, both ends of our bond were open. I could _sense_ him. I could taste his fear like wine on my tongue, and it made me lose my mind.

My fear was gone, replaced by a terrible fear for _him_, and all I knew was that sixty feet was too short of a distance for what I needed to do. I folded my wings inward and let myself plummet until he was within reach, and, like a bird of prey, I grabbed him.

Immediately everything was awkward; unlike myself, he was long and wrongly shaped for the air, and the ground was approaching too fast. I forced my wings open to halt our fall, despite the wrenching pain, and pulled upward.

Angling my body skyward, we missed the ground by some mere ten feet, making an odd dip. With powerful beats of my wings, I soared upward, Kaiba held securely in my arms. The intense fear that had come through the bond had faded, replaced by an exhilarating rush of pleasure, of joy at defying the forces that chained man to the ground.

The air was cold and thin so high up in the mountains, and it made me lightheaded, although that was also from relief. I flew in large, lazy circles around our practice site, the winds naturally lifting me up. The ledge that I had been practicing with all morning and afternoon became small and insignificant, and suddenly I realized I was flying.

Kaiba had opened his eyes and we looked at each other in amazement as I continued to soar effortlessly, my wings not even the slightest bit strained by having an extra passenger with me. It was indescribably glorious and I would have remained up there forever, but I suddenly remembered what Kaiba had done and the fear that had cut through me like a knife when I had seen him step off the cliff.

Fully aware of my wings as I never was before, I carefully brought us back to the ledge and landed, stumbling just a little because of the unnatural feel of ground beneath my feet again. For a moment, it was impossible to fight the unreasonable rush of distress that the freedom of the sky had ended. It was so open and empty up there and now we were grounded again. The loss was almost a physical sensation.

Kaiba had disentangled himself from me, though he looked no less shocked than I felt. I strode over to him and grabbed his shoulders, all my anger returning in a rush as I imagined again how he'd simply _jumped off _the cliff just because I had told him to. He succumbed to my attack and waited for me to calm down with a patience I could only marvel at. Of course, at that moment I wasn't marveling, I was furious.

"How could you do that, Seto? Are you _trying _to KILL yourself?" I found myself speechless with the flood of rage, anger, relief, and other unnamable emotions. I had almost lost him. He had insanely jumped off a sixty-foot ledge. He had almost _died_.

"You told me to trust you, and I do," he said, unruffled, while I paced around him and tried to prevent myself from killing him. At his words, I came to a stop right in front of him. The calmer he was, the angrier I got; it simply felt like he hadn't cared at all that maybe I might have missed, or I might have reacted just a few seconds too slowly, or that he might have thrown his fragile life away on something as stupid as what I'd asked of him. If I'd stopped to examine my thoughts, I would have realized I was more furious at myself for telling him to do something so stupid. As it was, I continued to rage, and he continued to stand there.

The bond was still open and my distress must have filtered through to him because he at last looked sorry. I drew closer to him and saw the brilliant, intense blue of his eyes. Then I couldn't think at all, just as I couldn't think in those few terrifying seconds when I had plunged down after him when he had let himself fall.

I felt my breath catch in my throat and the next moment my mouth was on his, kissing him, hard. Everything except my pounding heart came to an abrupt halt and centered around his lips, scorching my own with feverish, wordless desire. Feelings were resonating through our bond, overwhelming both of us. My hands moved of their own accord to cup his face and as I tasted him, I forgot everything else.

We broke apart suddenly and he slid from my grasp, surprise and something else in his eyes. Some kind of awareness and some kind of instant resistance. I stared at him, thoughts suddenly flooding back into my mind with painful clarity. He _knew_. What I'd just done, that had pretty much told him. And I had known from the start that he wasn't interested, that he had someone else in mind.

I slammed my side of the bond shut, realizing that the flicker I had seen must have been disgust, and that with one kiss, I might as well have laid out my heart for him to laugh at.

I stumbled back in a blind panic, feeling that my face was flushed with unfulfilled desire—not quite lust, but beyond anything I could put a name to. I knew it was all there for him to see, if he looked—all my longing, my unhealthy obsession with him. I fixed my eyes on a rock on the ground, seeing it blur with tears, wishing I could cover my ears so that I wouldn't hear the question that came next.

"_Why_, Amelda?" The way he said it, uncomprehending and somehow just unwilling—I couldn't bear this.

I looked up, feeling as if some fateful trap had just closed all around me. He was looking at the ground as well, blindly. I heard my own hoarse voice as if it were someone else speaking. "I don't know. I just… It doesn't mean anything. It's just an effect of the bond."

His head came up sharply at that and pain tore through me. Frantically, I threw all my will into closing the link between us, tears blinding me as I backed away.

I felt myself approach the edge of the cliff, and oblivious of anything but the pain that burned through me, I turned around and let myself fall into the wind, my angel's wings carrying me away, skyward.

o o o

A/N: See that button down there? **Please review**.


	7. Heaven and Hell

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended.

**  
Seven: Heaven and Hell**

_There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio__  
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy__  
— __William Shakespeare, Hamlet (I, v, 166-167)_

It was hours before I could even steel myself to think rationally about what I was going to do. By that time I was shivering, even with the added advantage of my not quite human, heated blood. I had stayed away all night, shutting him out so firmly that it almost felt as if our bond had been severed. It was excruciating—almost a physical sensation, only worse. But no matter what pain it caused me, I was sure it would be worse if I could actually feel what he felt.

Over and over again, I saw that look in his eyes as we had broken apart, the flicker of denial, the rejection. I was past the point of tears or perhaps too stubborn to give into something so weak. Instead, I ended up sitting at the foot of a tree, curled and head resting on my arms, trying valiantly to feel numb and to stay that way.

By the early hours of morning, a little bit of reason had returned to me, mainly with the realization that I was on a mountain with no real way to get back home. I was somewhat shocked to find that 'home' in my mind now was the Kaiba mansion, rather than the place I had shared with Varon and Raphael. I'd denied it for so long and yet it still came so naturally in my thoughts.

The point was, I was choosing to strand myself on this mountain. Kaiba didn't know where I was, and might have left already, if he were angry enough. The thought made me suppress a painful shudder, but I couldn't ignore this bit of common sense forever, no matter how much I wanted to. Still, it was only a few hours before dawn before I finally forced myself to stand up, stretching stiff and wearied limbs, and told myself to return.

It didn't help that my wings were bedraggled and that my muscles were finally aching from their flying exercises, and from doing whatever unnatural things I had done with them to pull out of that dive when Kaiba had jumped off the cliff's edge. I was getting soft. During the days when Dartz watched over us, I wouldn't have ever ended up in this miserable condition.

Even now, I couldn't think of Dartz without some bitterness. In some odd way, he had been almost like a father to us. He'd taken us as young children, and we had grown up with him, believing all his lies. Disillusionment was painful and the knowledge that he had been behind everything in the first place…well, what could I do now? Nothing could bring back Miruko, or give Raphael his sister and brother back.

Even Varon—no, that wasn't being fair to him. Raphael and I had our reasons for joining Doom, but Varon had been the closest to Dartz in many ways. Now Dartz was gone, and the three of us struggled along, but I didn't expect to be separated from them, either.

I wondered what they would do if they were in my place. Then I wondered if I could go back to live with them after all, defying this angel's bond, betraying the oath I had sworn. What was I protecting Kaiba from, anyway? I knew it hurt to be away from Seto, but surely I would grow used to it. It hurt just as much to be near him and I preferred the uncomfortable tug of the bond and the guilt of abandoning my duty to protect him, to the ache in my heart.

Even as I was thinking, I was finding my way to a ledge that I hoped was steep enough for me to jump off from. I had no idea how to launch myself from the ground, although presumably there was a way, so ledges it would be. I beat my wings slowly back and forth to renew the circulation in them, and winced as sore muscles protested.

The numbness was wearing off and I didn't want it to. I finally reached the edge of the ledge and looked down. The sky would begin to lighten in a couple of hours, but the night was still dark. I closed my gritty eyes and wondered if I could keep the bond shut down so tightly if I were near him, facing him and watching his expression. I could test it first, of course – relax my control of it now, and see how he was feeling, or if he was even near. But my courage failed me at the thought.

Best to deal with that only when I absolutely had to, or I would talk myself out of even returning to the cabin. For all that I tried to keep my mind blank, it continued to replay my memories over and over. I remembered how I had stumbled over the words I had forced myself to say, and the way it had hurt so much, as if pain could be magnified.

_It doesn't mean anything. __It's__ just an effect of the bond_.

Had he truly believed it? Had he felt anything from me from the bond when we'd kissed? After all, I had been such a fool…he couldn't have missed what I'd made so blatantly obvious. With his looks and his money, he was probably used to having people throw themselves at his feet.

So. He knew I felt strongly for him, even though I'd tried to explain it away. Saying that I didn't want to kiss him when I had just done it wasn't exactly an excuse that would hold up. Even the thought stole my breath away and I concentrated on ignoring the deep ache inside my chest. Why had it been Kaiba, and not anyone else, anyone with even a _possibility _of returning my affections? It was all his fault in the first place, or at least his employee's fault. I wouldn't be an angel now, I'd be singing, as I had been, with Kaiba safely far away, out of sight, and hopefully out of my mind.

The confrontation that I had so feared had come at last, Emerson's lyrics come true. Just as I had sung, it left devastation in its wake, and I didn't know what to do now. I rubbed my eyes hard, took deep breaths of the cold night air, and told myself that self-pity was stupid. I was stronger than this, and I was wasting time thinking too much.

The flight back was dismal, to say the least. It wasn't hard to find my way back; oddly enough, my flight to escape him was etched into my mind, as if memorizing flight patterns were perhaps another side effect of being an angel. The night had turned chill; we were high in the mountains, after all, and even my angel's blood could not completely cope. I beat my stiff wings determinedly, reminded that I'd pay for this three times over in the morning, because I was already aching from the previous exertions.

Flying at night was different in so many ways. The shadows seemed menacing and I half expected to crash into some unseen, tall black wall, breaking my wings and thus breaking my neck in the process when I fell. There was a moon, but sometimes it was cloaked by clouds, and then the night would turn even darker, so I felt as if I were flying blindly into a trap.

I couldn't help but reflect rather bitterly that I should never have agreed to this in the first place. Sure, Kaiba had given me the greatest gift of my life, but he might as well have also stripped me of my wings. He'd taught me to fly, and grounded me at the same time. My eyes burned, and I thought it was from exhaustion. It wasn't until a wet drop splattered on my hand that I realized that I was silently crying all the tears that I had successfully held back. I wiped them away angrily and told myself that I wouldn't give Kaiba the satisfaction of seeing how much he'd shaken me.

I might have laid out my feelings for him to see, but I had given a perfectly plausible reason for it, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to stick to the story. With those grim resolutions, I landed hard, nearly falling to the ground. Walking felt strange and somehow clumsy, as if I had forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other.

The cabin was dark when I stealthily stole up to it and for a frightening moment I thought that all my worst fears had come true. It was deserted. Kaiba had been so angry, so disgusted by what I'd dared to do, that he had left. I was here in the middle of nowhere on a mountain and I was abandoned.

I don't know what I would have done, but I think my knees were just about to give out, so I probably would have ended up as a miserable feathered heap in the little path leading up to the front door of the cabin. The cabin door opened before I could give way to my despair though, and then he was there, standing, faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

We didn't speak, just looked at each other for a long moment, gazes unwittingly meeting and somehow neither of us could look away. My breath caught and I clamped down on my side of the bond with even more willpower, sure that he was doing the same with his. Those blue eyes were unreadable and I hoped that mine were as well.

_Just an effect of the bond_. The kiss meant nothing to me. I tried to imagine what I'd look like, how I'd respond to him now, if that were true, and did my best to act that way. I don't think I could have succeeded in full daylight, but the night was kind to my poor parody, and after the first few intense moments, I looked away. It was hard enough to bear the moonlight soft on his pale skin and to resist the urge to brush the messy, stray strands of silky hair out of his darkened eyes.

"I suppose you're back to stay," he said at last, voice rusty as if from disuse. I nodded, closing my eyes for a long moment to hide any welling tears. We were going to ignore it, then, and pretend that it hadn't happened. This was what I had wanted, right?

A part of me was relieved beyond belief that he had agreed to overlook my mistake, and that I wasn't about to be scorned or rejected. I wasn't about to lose him. We could return to the status quo.

But another, larger part of me was shattered, knowing that my unintentional act would be as close as I'd ever come to admitting anything to him and that this opportunity had come and passed, with little left in its wake. I hadn't realized that I'd held onto that last irrational sliver of hope until this moment.

"We'll head back tomorrow," he said abruptly, after I made no move to get any closer to him. I was acutely conscious of the way his eyes raked me up and down for a long moment, taking in my disheveled appearance and slightly shivering form. No doubt they would reflect an aristocratic scorn, if I met them.

"Kaiba—" My voice was choked, and I broke off. I don't know what I would have said, anyway. For some reason, I wanted to apologize. To my horror, I realized I was perilously close to tears.

We'd reached a breaking point tonight and both of us knew it. One wrong step, and whatever fragile peace we had developed over the last couple of months would have disappeared. Granted, we had ignored each other for much of that time, but something had developed anyway, enough so that we could continue our lives separately, but slightly overlapping, just enough to satisfy the bond.

It wasn't friendship, not even close. But although it went unnamed and unnoticed, it had almost been irreparably damaged tonight, and all because I had lost control and kissed him. I think both of us had valued that vague relationship more than we realized. I had my own obvious reasons, but Kaiba…well, I had observed him for a while, and I think it _was _true that sometimes he was just human after all. It was only his pride that kept him from reaching out to people. The more he pretended not to care, the more he pushed people away, but it was a lie. And because of the bond between us, because I was his guardian angel, he couldn't push me away.

Maybe it was the direction of my thoughts, or the volatile tension between us, but our control over the bond had weakened. I had a flash of memory that I would have given anything not to have seen.

It was rather ordinary, I suppose. Kaiba, sitting alone in a classroom with a book of Kafka's philosophy in his hands, while around him all the students crowded over to Yugi, who was dueling some green-eyed guy with a thing for dice. A die even dangled from his ear.

Seto stared at the page as if deep in concentration, but he wasn't reading at all. Over the excited chatter and the giggling of a few girls, he could hear Yugi and his friends. I felt his anger that _he _was the better duelist, but Yugi got all the attention anyway, and beneath that anger, loneliness so profound it took my breath away.

He had concealed it so well that he almost believed it himself. Seto had told himself that he _wanted _to be alone, in fact preferred it, and that it was his choice. No doubt the students around him wouldn't have seen past the façade he had put up, but it didn't correspond with what was going on inside of him at all.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

His enraged shout brought me back to myself, and I slammed my side of the bond shut again, reeling from what I'd seen and aware that I had just violated one of his most private moments. My eyes prickled with tears, but I didn't know whether for him or for me. He was angrier than I had ever seen him.

"Kaiba," I blurted, panicked. But his gaze had turned as cold as ice, glittering a deadly blue, and I saw that his hand was clenched into a fist by his side. "I didn't mean to. God, Kaiba, I—"

"Spare me, Amelda."

Three words in that precise and even tone, and I fell silent, feeling as if I had been slapped. But if I was wordless, he wasn't.

"You've explained enough, don't you think?" He paused. "I don't care what it takes, but I'll break this bond if I have to kill you myself."

I opened my mouth to say something, to frantically try to defuse the situation, but I couldn't get past his words. I knew he was angry and I knew I deserved it, but it was an agony to hear them all the same. I had never truly been on the receiving end of this cold anger.

The silence stretched on as I watched him and saw how he fought to get back his control. So much anger, and for some reason all I could think of was how he was such a master of illusions, so skilled at acting, until he'd almost fooled himself. So much anger now, but as a cover for what, this time?

We stood on different sides of the cabin door and I studied the ground. When I looked up an indeterminable time later he was almost calm again, the expression in his wintry eyes implacable.

"I'll always be Kaiba to you."

It was just a statement, toneless as usual when he was being his most difficult except for the slight stress on his name, but I thought about all that it could mean, as I stood there. I didn't think that I could feel any worse, but those words somehow achieved the effect.

The sky was finally beginning to lighten. I was tired beyond belief and I just wanted to get away from him. Almost subconsciously, I turned from the cabin door, finding it funny that I'd never even stepped foot inside. There was nowhere to go, of course, but I wasn't thinking so clearly, and I didn't care.

I took a couple of steps, shivering a little, and heard a choked kind of sound escape me, just as a hand clamped down hard on my arm. I froze, realizing that he had followed me. He turned me to face him and studied my face, no doubt reading the misery written all over it, and insistently pulled me back to the cabin, shutting the door behind us. I didn't resist; I think at that point if someone had tried to strangle me I would have stood by and let them.

It was noticeably warmer inside and I stopped shivering, but the blessed numbness had returned in full force. He'd turned away from me and I stared at his back. I was so exhausted it was almost dreamlike, so when he faced me again I simply continued to stare. Even with his lips compressed with unhappiness or distaste – I couldn't tell without looking up, and I wasn't about to do that – his mouth was attractive. And reminded me of how this unfortunate chain of events had started…with a kiss. A stupid, stupid kiss, but one I didn't regret, not if it was the only one I'd ever get from him.

With a sigh, he pushed me towards the bedroom. It was small and held only beds on either side, with four or so feet separating them. I noted that his was untouched. Of course, he hadn't been flying around all night as I had, but like his statement, knowing that he hadn't slept either brought up a welter of confused feelings in me.

Whatever his reasons, Seto's voice was just slightly gentler when he spoke again. "Get some sleep, Amelda."

With that, he disappeared back into the other room. I needed no other invitation to curl up on the bed, although I forced myself to stay awake for another few minutes. Waiting, although I don't know for what. I remembered the other times I had fallen asleep in his presence.

I thought that he needed the sleep as much as I did, and the thought wouldn't let me go. I finally got up to check the other room, but hesitated, maybe hoping that when I did go in, he would be occupied, preferably already sleeping. I supposed it was too much to ask from Kaiba, though, for him to pretend to be sleeping.

He wasn't, of course. He was sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames, but at least he didn't see me. I left him alone, stumbling back to the bedroom, and fell asleep on my side, looking across the four feet to his untouched bed.

o o o

It was rather amazing how two people could spend an entire morning together without speaking a word. If the silence hadn't held an underlying chill, I would have appreciated the way we managed to pack up everything, completely without the need to communicate, more. Nor were there any slightest accidental brush of hands or bodies, although the cabin was small enough, and we stood close enough several times. In fact, I was concentrating hard to keep my wings insubstantial, although this weekend had ostensibly been planned so that I might be free to be what I was, an angel.

After two or three hours of deep slumber, I had woken up with a start, facedown on my narrow bed and aware that something was wrong. It didn't take me long to figure out that in my sleep I had stretched out my aching wings and that my left wing had effortlessly spanned the four feet between _his _bed and mine, to drape over him.

He was awake already and trying to get it off him without waking me up.

I withdrew my wing immediately and scrambled back until my right wing protested from being smashed against the wall in an unnatural position. He stared at me, hair tousled from sleep and eyes soft and endlessly blue for a moment, before I saw him remember.

We were about half an hour from the Kaiba mansion when he spoke and it was softly, not even addressed to me. He was driving, of course, and rather than taking the passenger seat, I was sitting behind him. Kaiba had pointedly left a bag in the seat, which I took to mean that he most definitely did not want me sitting next to him. Since I was behind him, he could almost pretend that there was no one in the car with him and had proceeded to do so for the first two hours of the long drive back to Domino City.

So when he spoke to me, head perfectly still and seemingly focused on the road, I didn't even catch what he said. It did have the effect of snapping me out of the trance I'd fallen into and before I could stop myself, I spoke up. "Sorry?"

Blue eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror and met mine for a surprised second. "I said, Mokuba will want to know how our trip went. I don't want him to be disappointed."

In other words: I will be acting, as usual, and you better play your part, too.

"Mokuba'll be fine," I said lamely, to let Seto know that I understood. "After all, I did learn to fly." Somehow it hadn't given me as much pleasure as I would have expected.

"He's going to notice if we don't speak to each other." There was an odd hesitancy to his voice and for a moment I wondered if the silence had bothered him as much as it had bothered me. But Seto had been the one that started it, right? Well, not that I'd said a single word this morning, either.

"Then we'll talk," I said finally. "Look, if you're worried, I'm sure he'll be delighted if I tell him that I can take him flying."

I shut up immediately after that, regretting my words when I realized how absurd of an idea it was. After all, Domino was a crowded area, and it wasn't like I would ever have the chance. It was back to pretending to be normal, for me.

Expecting him to say something to the effect of pointing out my idiocy, I turned my head to resolutely stare out of the window. Granted, things had never been comfortable between us, but we'd almost reached the point of friendliness, what with all the dinners we'd shared together, with Mokuba presiding over the table despite being the youngest. The memory brought a faint smile to my lips and then I realized Seto hadn't replied at all. Instinctively I looked at the rearview mirror again and found that he was watching me.

He looked away and then turned on the radio, catching the end of a song. I started to relax a little, closing my eyes to block out Seto's presence in front of me, and letting myself sing inwardly with the music. A bunch of commercials came on, and although annoying, I was grateful for the noise. The silence had a way of eating at me. I think even Kaiba had felt a little of the strain, because he made no move to change stations.

"The number one single from the hit band's self-titled first album, _Devastation_. It'll be out in stores in a week and anticipation is building. As you may have heard in the news, the band's attractive lead singer was attacked by an overzealous fan a month ago, but thankfully escaped with no serious injury. With this kind of music, it's no wonder that everyone wants to be _devastated_!"

I'd almost forgotten about the date set for our album's release, with all that had happened. In a completely surreal moment, I heard the beginning chords of the first song we'd done together as a group, and moments later, my voice filling the car. It was so familiar, I experienced a sudden sense of déjà vu.

_And you and I,_

_We're a disaster waiting to happen _

_Do you realize I won't compromise? _

_Angel, dare to defy— _

The music had built from a slow croon to an exultant, almost angry cry. I knew what was coming, and wished the radio station had chosen to play any other song. I was so tense that when I made my hands uncurl from their fists, I saw deep crescent moons on my palms, courtesy of my fingernails.

_Confrontation! Devastation! _

Kaiba's hand reached out and turned off the radio.

The cessation of music was both unexpected and welcome, right up until I realized that at least it had covered up the almost audible hum of tension in the car. I sat stiffly and tried my best to ignore him, to no avail. For some reason, I wanted him to know that I'd written the song long before I had actually become an angel. The lyrics were just coincidence. But when I opened my mouth to speak, my throat was dry and scratchy.

The car slowed and for a second I thought he was going to do something drastic, like stop the car and tell me to get out. It was hard to gauge his feelings when he was so shut off, but I was fairly sure that he wasn't happy. I finally found my voice.

"Kai—" catching myself just in time, I went on. "Seto, that was the first song we ever made together. The band, I mean, not you and me. It was before I actually knew there were angels around." At least _part _of it was passably coherent.

"I know."

Which left me wondering what he knew, but I was relieved he hadn't told me not to call him Seto. Names seemed to have a special import with him and he'd proven touchy about it. Last night's statement about how he'd always be Kaiba to me was fresh in my mind. Except…_I know_…I remember when we had first met each other again, the night I was attacked. Kaiba had been at the club _Paradise_, where the band and I had performed, and I had been worried that he'd recognized me. So, presumably, he had heard the song there too.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, the car had come to a full stop before I finally noticed that we had arrived back at the Kaiba mansion. I got out and started to help Seto haul the luggage out of the car, only to find that there was already someone there to do exactly that. A butler or housekeeper or something like that; it's not as if I actually know the proper titles of servants, being closer to that class than to the class that employed them.

Seto disappeared inside and I followed, sure than he was looking for Mokuba. I was almost surprised that the kid hadn't been there to greet us, but even that was expecting a bit much, I suppose. I knew that Seto had brought a cell phone up to the mountains with us, but I didn't recall hearing him use it, and if he had called, Mokuba probably would have wanted to talk to me.

Sometimes I think he was the best thing that happened to me as a result of becoming an angel. It wasn't that I was using him to replace Miruko, but I did feel as if I had become a second older brother to him. I was eager to see him, even if it meant that Seto and I would have to be careful to act as if nothing had happened. My face burned at the thought of Mokuba finding out that I had kissed his brother. It wasn't so much fear that he wouldn't approve, because I had the feeling that he would, but just the idea of it. My thoughts toward Seto weren't entirely innocent, after all.

Speaking of the brunette, Seto had come back with a slightly perplexed look on his face, the first non-angry emotion I'd seen from him in a while. "What is it?" I asked. We would have to talk sooner or later; this could be regarded as good practice. A voice in the back of my mind told me that my intentions hadn't anything to do with practice and everything to do with my own selfish wish for him to stop cold shouldering me.

"I can't find Mokuba."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. "You just looked through every room in this place?"

"Of course not," he snapped. Then, as if seeing my sudden wariness, he sighed. "I tried calling him on Saturday, after we got to the cabin, but he wasn't picking up his cell phone, so I just left a message."

I walked alongside him as he ducked into a rarely used section of the mansion. I had privately split up the place into North, South, East, and West, not to mention Levels One through Four, plus the basement. Occasionally, I still got lost, and I had been living here for over a month. Kaiba actually looked worried as we explored the rooms belonging to South, Level One.

"Maybe he went out?" I suggested, although I knew better. Kaiba didn't even take issue with it.

"He knows that we're coming back today," he said tersely.

"Did you ask the…hired help?" I just didn't feel comfortable calling them servants, and I didn't know if it would be a bigger insult to call, say, a housekeeper a butler.

"They're useless. They mind their own business. I shouldn't have left him alone."

"He's a mature kid, I'm sure we'll find him." But my voice sounded concerned rather than reassuring.

"Amelda, you don't know how many people would hate him just because he's my brother. We had a lot of threats before, fake ransom notes—" Seto broke off, as if he'd said more than he had meant to.

It was really no more than I'd expected, but I was surprised by how vulnerable his expression was. I shoved the thought out of my mind, focusing on one thing that was quickly becoming apparent: Mokuba was missing.

"You guys have pretty good security around here, right?" I unlocked another door and flicked on the lights, to reveal more covered furniture. I was starting to hate the size of the place.

Seto's muffled voice came from the room across the hall. "Mokuba has to be in here."

"Maybe he wandered into a room and fell asleep," I said. It wasn't plausible, but it was possible.

"Whatever."

Together, we combed through South Level One, as well as North and East. West had already been covered earlier, because Mokuba actually hung out there often. It took at least a good thirty minutes, and this was with us checking as fast as possible. I contemplated Levels Two, Three, and Four with a sinking heart.

"Wait, Seto, why don't you get the people to help?" I said after we met in the middle again. "We need more searchers."

By this time, he'd dropped all pretenses. His eyes were a little bit wild, but his voice was calm enough. "I've contacted Kaiba Corp and he was in touch earlier this morning."

"So he couldn't have been gone long. What about getting help?" I reminded him.

"I've sent them home. I don't trust them."

I could've punched the wall in frustration. "Kaiba, you _do _realize—" But then I broke off, because I realized he was right. For all we knew, one of them had helped spirit Mokuba away, or had drugged him, or had overpowered him. For all his maturity, he was just a little kid, after all.

We split up again and covered Level Two in less time than Level One, although we were both a little breathless for it. As with this morning, we needed no words when we met again on the third floor, which was where we had our bedrooms. This time, urgency spurred us, and I was grateful for whatever ability we had to seem to read each other's minds.

I could see the panic in his eyes and without thinking, I reached out to take his hand in mind. I squeezed it hard for just a moment and watched the desperation in his expression soften a little, as he looked at me as if he had just really noticed me standing there.

It wasn't a cold silence now, but rather, a silence of understanding. I couldn't let anything happen to Mokuba. I just couldn't, and I knew Kaiba felt the same way.

o o o

About twenty minutes later, I crashed into Kaiba as I came out of a room. We got up hastily, not even really noticing the contact, although he had ended up sprawled on me. "No sign?"

"His room," he gasped. "The computer was on, so I was going to check if he'd made any recent emails or chatted online, but the cup of hot chocolate next to the mouse was warm."

I clung to that little piece of information as if it were a clue that would tell us where Mokuba was. "Do you think he was kidnapped?"

Seto shook his head in denial. "The security's too good, and even if it had been breached, I'm sure it would have triggered at least one alarm."

"Anyone besides yourself know the password?"

"Not even Mokuba. We'd talked about it before; if they somehow managed to get hold of him, they can't force him to disable the security. He has to be here."

"We should move onto the fourth floor, then," I said grimly. "You've covered everything here, right?"

"Yeah." He swept past me for the stairs, moving at something close to a run. He _had _been running earlier, but even at his most panicked, I think Kaiba would have tried to appear to be in control. The fact that he seemed so shaken only told me how bad the situation was, and I was halfway up the stairwell, following him, before I cursed and dashed down again.

I'd checked every room on my side of the third floor except for my own, of course. Mokuba had spent plenty of time in it, but I'd locked it before Seto and I had left for our trip, so I hadn't even thought about looking in it. I twisted the doorknob, finding to my satisfaction that it still _was _locked, and fished out the key from one of the many pockets in my trench coat.

I flicked on the lights, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and was about to run back up again when I heard a muffled thump from the bathroom. Not sure if it was just my imagination or really something worth checking out, I opened the door and hit the light switch at the same time.

Since this was a bathroom in Kaiba's mansion, it was luxurious indeed, and had both a shower and a huge bath. The place was a mess, the mirror glass on the walls cracked into spiderweb patterns, as if something huge had slammed into them. Thankfully, there was no blood that I could see.

Then I felt it, and it was hard to describe exactly _what _I had felt, except it went contrary to everything inside of me and everything that I was. For a second, it felt as if my head had exploded, and golden, streaming sunbursts filled my vision. I bent in half, hands to my head, and heard the sound of space being ripped as my wings burst forth.

_Seto—_! I wasn't aware of it, but my wings weren't the only things out of my control. The bond was terrifyingly open on both sides in a way that it hadn't been since the very first time I had become aware of it.

The shower curtain was drawn around the bath and I felt _it_ resonating from there, as if it were distorting the air around it. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I charged towards it and ripped the curtain down.

"AMELDA!" Mokuba's unmistakable voice rang out and drew my attention to him, before a paw slapped him brutally, the force of it turning his head to one side.

I followed the paw up the hairy arm, and then stared for a moment without realizing what I was seeing. It—no, definitely a he—was unclothed except for what looked like a loincloth around his waist, and at least a good seven or eight feet. The first ridiculous thought that entered my head was that he looked exactly like what I had always imagined a classic Greek minotaur to be, except his head was somewhat more human and less like a bull's. The twin horns were there, and his deformed hands and feet ended in what looked like eagle talons, which is why I had thought that they were paws.

His furred arm had come up to wrap around Mokuba's neck, and the muscles bulged in his effort to strangle Mokuba. I punched him in the stomach and then swore as his other arm easily threw me to the floor in a clumsy mess of wings and too-delicate bones. I was stronger than a mortal, but my bones had hollowed out, like a bird's, probably to reduce weight so that I could fly.

The minotaur must have outweighed me by close to 200 pounds, and I knew without a hope that I would lose if I tried to fight him directly. Seto was coming, but it might be too late. Any extra pressure and strangulation would turn into a simple snap of the neck.

I looked up to see that Mokuba was turning blue and then I lost it. Abandoning reason, I tackled the minotaur around the waist, hard enough to push him back. The marble of the tub was slippery and he fell, thankfully releasing Mokuba enough for the kid to take in a starved breath and start coughing. But he hadn't released Mokuba, and he regained his footing, stepping out of the tub.

I needed some kind of weapon to fight with, and there was nothing handy around. His fist came swinging towards me and I ducked, knowing for certain that if any single one of his blows landed on me, I was done for. My bird bones would snap like toothpicks, Mokuba would die, and when Seto got here, he would too.

He was fighting one-handed, the other still clenched around Mokuba's face, although probably not tight enough to cause too much damage—for the moment. His fist came back, aimed lower this time, and I dodged to the right. Too late, I forgot my wings, and his punch connected solidly with the delicate mesh of feather, tissue, and bone.

I stared at his feet, and realized that I had to use his size against him. He was too strong, I would have to trip him, but he didn't seem like the clumsy type, for all his bulk. I crouched down low, cowering close to the floor purposefully, and waited for his fist to come down on me. It wasn't entirely an act; I _was _stunned from the force of his blow on my wing and it felt as if something had broken. It gave me a moment to recuperate.

When the attack came, I was ready. To reach me, he had hunched over so that his bestial face was close to mine, reeking of rotting flesh. I had a second to look into red eyes that were surprisingly intelligent and not crazed at all, as I would have expected. The next moment, I rammed into his legs as hard as I could, and rolled to the side as the minotaur fell, unbalanced by his own momentum.

Or at least I _tried_ to roll to the side, because with my wings, I didn't get very far. The minotaur fell as planned, his size and weight suddenly used against him, except he came crashing down on _my _already injured left wing. I heard a surprisingly delicate sounding crack, accompanied by a bolt of white-hot pain that had me crying out.

"Amelda? Are you all right?" Mokuba's raspy but blessed voice washed over me. I bit back the string of curses on the tip of my tongue and watched as he struggled free from the minotaur's grasp.

It wasn't moving, which was just as well because I was pinned underneath him. I could only hope that it had hit its head. It was hard to even breathe with the weight, and for a moment I wondered if my ribs would crack under the strain. I tried to shove him off, and Mokuba helped, but even the slightest movement made my wing feel as if it were on fire.

The minotaur shifted, to my agony, and my vision started to blacken. When it cleared, my world was still dark, and I thought someone had spread something to cover me foul-smelling leather, until I saw it for what it was.

Wings. As large as my own, but until now they had been folded behind the minotaur and well hidden by the mass of flesh and hair. Only _these _wings were brown and covered in a wrinkled, membranous tissue that was oozing slime over me. It smelled like rotting squid and I turned his head to the side, feeling nauseated from the combined smell and the pain of my surely shattered wing.

What was it that Yami had been blathering about, back then? Oh yes, a DEMON. Not a minotaur, after all. I should've known—after all, if there were angels in heaven, or Above, then it made sense that there were demons in hell. I supposed they called it Below or something. Down There. Heck, even Underground.

I wasn't making much sense even to myself, making me wonder if the stuff I was inhaling actually was having some sort of effect on me. And where the hell was one lousy Seto Kaiba anyway? I'd shut down my side of the bond again, out of habit, as soon as I could, which coincided with the time that the demon had been knocked unconscious. No wonder it had affected me like that, causing the bond to be exposed and my wings to substantiate despite my control.

"Mokuba," I got out, trying not to inhale. He was struggling to lift the wing from me, but apparently it was quite heavy, because it slipped out of his grasp and fell on me harder than before. I tried not to retch at the stink of it. "Hey. Go get Seto."

Who at that moment decided to come waltzing in, judging by Mokuba's sudden rush to hug him while poor Amelda remained pinned under an enormous, heavy _demon_ while suffering from a broken wing. Yes, I was just about at the end of sanity. I'd had three hours of sleep after a day of flying and broken hearts, then had a morning of riding the emotional roller coaster, only to come home to a missing and presumed kidnapped Mokuba. Who apparently had been taken hold of by a _demon_, which I'd barely succeeded in fighting, all without the help of that arrogant jerk named Seto Kaiba. My mortal, the one bonded to me, who might have been expected to help out, just a little.

Sadly, I began to laugh uncontrollably. Even the exhausted-sounding laughter renewed my pain, but I couldn't seem to stop. Seto hauled the wing away from me, causing the unconscious minotaur to apparently wake up enough to twitch and roll around a little. This was while it was still on my wing, of course, so naturally instead of laughing I switched smoothly over to screaming in pain.

"God, Amelda, he really did a number on you," Seto said, not even sounding too concerned to my ears. _Where were you? _I wanted to retort, but chomped down on my lip instead when the demon twitched again, sending fresh waves of pain. Supposedly after a certain amount, people simply pass out. Unfortunately, I was beginning to think that angels were a little tougher than that. Not tough enough to avoid the pain, of course, but I didn't seem to be about to slip into unconsciousness anytime soon.

Seto ran a hand through my hair and cradled my head for a moment, which sufficiently cleared my mind enough for me to regain a little equilibrium. Even the goo from the demon, which was currently sliding nastily down my neck, didn't seem as bad.

Together with Mokuba's help, Seto managed to roll it the rest of the way off my wing. For some reason, it only made everything hurt worse, probably because the weight of it had actually served to numb it. My eyes teared uncontrollably.

"Mokuba, are you hurt?" Seto asked, still looking at me.

"I'm fine. But what are we going to do about Amelda?" Mokuba said, his eyes round as he looked at me. His neck was already beginning to bruise from the demon's attempts to strangle him, and looking at it made me feel a little better about my own situation, since it reminded me of the oh-so-heroic intentions I had had when I had decided to engage in a fight with the demon.

"I don't know," Seto replied.

Coming from Kaiba, that was a staggering admission. It was true though; they couldn't exactly take me to the hospital. I lay there and tried to remain calm, while less than two feet away my opponent peacefully enjoyed his oblivion. It was beyond unfair, but as I was pondering this issue, I had the sudden hope that perhaps I'd heal naturally. Angels weren't mortals, right?

Anyway, it was better than lying on the cold floor. I felt faint from the pain, and my voice sounded pitifully weak when I spoke. "Seto, can you please just help me to bed?"

He looked at me and summoned up a ghost of his usual smirk. It was a measure of how pathetic I was feeling that even that made me want to smile back. "What, no quips about helping you take off your shirt this time?"

I realized what I had unwittingly said and closed my eyes in embarrassment, pleasantly surprised to find that heat hadn't crept up my face. "Fine, let me lie here then."

I blindly turned my head enough to press my cheek against the floor, not caring if it was dirty, although knowing Seto and his insistence on perfect cleanliness, it probably wasn't. The cool marble felt good anyway and I had demon slime on me, after all.

I felt, more than saw, Seto shake his head above me. "Do you think that maybe you can, you know, with your wings?"

"You know?" I repeated in puzzlement, opening my eyes. He gestured to my wings, and I finally understood what he meant. "I don't think I can concentrate well enough, but I'll try."

I closed my eyes again and willed my wings to disappear, although it was hard to ignore their existence when they were throbbing with pain. It took me a few minutes to realize what was wrong. "If I open the bond, will you promise to keep your side shut down? I can't focus on both my wings and on blocking you."

"All right." The slightest inflection of his voice made me want to look at his eyes to see what he was thinking, but I told myself to focus on the task at hand. My control must have gotten stronger with practice, because I heard Mokuba let out a small gasp a few seconds later, as well as the strange _whoosh _of sound that happened when my wings were no longer there to take up space.

I knew that if I were to look at them, they would be faint, semi-transparent and barely noticeable outlines, shadows of what they looked like when they were solid. Nevertheless, it didn't change the pain one bit, I was sorry to discover. I tried my best to look as if it had, because Mokuba was peering at me with traumatized eyes.

"Now what?" he whispered. He turned his head to look at the downed demon, and Seto did the same. "And what if that thing wakes up?"

"Demon," I corrected him without thinking, effectively bringing the attention of both Kaiba brothers back to me. It was distinctly unnerving to have two pairs of eyes, sapphire and slate blue, fixed on you from above. Seeing that they didn't have a clue to what I was talking about, I almost sighed. I would have thought Kaiba, at least, was intelligent enough.

"Remember what Yami warned you about? That there was a demon loose or something? Well, I'm pretty sure we just met him."

"That's ridiculous though. Demons don't exi—" Kaiba cut himself off, looking at me, and made a gesture of futility with his hands. "I suppose demons don't exist the way angels don't exist."

"Of course," I said irritably. I struggled to a sitting position, unsurprised that although intangible, the pain was neither ghostly nor muted. "Are we going to sit here all day discussing the existence of angels and demons, or are you going to help me up?"

The sharpness of my voice seemed to snap Seto out of whatever daze he had been in. "Mokuba, why don't you get cleaned up? I'll take care of Amelda. As for the demon," his eyes flicked over the gigantic prone form, and he sounded as if he would rather not say the word, "he can wait."

Now that I looked at Mokuba, he had even more of the demon's gunk on his clothes than I had, and he looked terrible. I saw Seto put a hand to his brother's shoulder and squeeze it gently, and like that, the floodgates had opened. "He just came out of nowhere, and I was on the computer, and he just grabbed me from behind. I couldn't fight him off, Seto. I mean, I really tried…"

"But it's not as if you could have gotten away anyway," I said, to forestall the torrent of words. "Mokuba, why don't you take a shower, change, and find something to put on those bruises?"

"But what about you?" He looked so lost that I wanted to give him a hug. To my surprise, Seto rose to his knees to do exactly that, slime covered jacket and all. His fingers brushed over the bruises on Mokuba's neck and trembled just slightly.

"I'll be fine." I wasn't so sure of it, but Mokuba took one last look at me and then left the bathroom, ushered away by Seto. Once he was gone, I permitted myself to drop some of the act, although there was no way in hell I was going to admit to Seto that I was in major pain. I turned to see what he was doing with the demon, but he appeared to simply be examining it. Without saying anything, he strode from the bathroom while I watched with disbelieving eyes.

"Hey! Where are you going?" I forced myself to my feet and staggered over to the counter, then leaned against it and the wall, craning my head out into my room to see where he'd gone. He came back soon enough and handed me some pills.

"Painkillers," he said briefly, and gave me a dubious look. "So, how bad are you off anyway?"

"I'll be fine. I think angels heal on their own." My words were clipped, but more from the pain than from any antagonistic feelings towards him. I was too tired to pick a fight.

"You _think_."

"Well, these wings didn't come with a handy manual, you know."

He replied with a soft _hmph_ and slipped an arm around me before I even knew what he was doing, causing me to sputter with shock. "Oh, shut up," he said almost good-humoredly, and proceeded to guide me out of the bathroom and into my room. Thankfully, it wasn't far, and I collapsed onto the bed. Making my wings insubstantial had been a good idea; wherever they went when they were ghostly, it seemed to preserve their state, and his arm around my shoulders didn't further injure them.

I let my wings solidify now that I comfortably sprawled on the bed, and I gratefully shut down the link on my end again. Not that I didn't trust Kaiba, and certainly he had kept his emotions shuttered away from me as promised, but I had grown used to the habit and felt oddly vulnerable knowing that if he had wanted to, he could have shared my thoughts and feelings.

"The demon," I reminded him when he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Amelda, go to sleep. We'll talk more about it when you wake up."

I hadn't realized that I was fast falling asleep until he said it, but evidently even my angel endurance could only take so much. He sat on the edge of my bed and started stroking my wings very gently, checking for the extent of the damage. Satisfied that everything was going to heal straight if, as I hoped, angels _did _heal fast and on their own, he let his hands rest on the arch of my wing, next to my head.

"I hope I _do _heal," I prayed to no one in particular.

"I hope you do, too." He said it sincerely and quietly, and with a trace of remorse. Not the usual caustic and cold Kaiba remark at all. I tried to think of why he would be sounding so, well, _soft_, but gave up after a few moments.

"You should go check on Mokuba…"

"Shh. I will, soon. I think Yami will be getting a long overdue call from me, too."

The demon was still in the bathroom. I knew he should be getting back to it, but I didn't seem to have the will to send him away. Seto's mention of Yami sent varied emotions through me, but I was far too tired to try to sort through them. It wasn't fair, he had seen me to sleep more times than I could count, lately, and I wished I could say the same of him.

I fell asleep only thinking that it was nice he was sitting next to me and that his hands were all too pleasurable on my wings, and that, wasn't it odd…because one had shifted to my shoulder, and the other to cup my face.

o o o

A/N: I'm sure I still missed a bunch of typos – this was a full _sixteen_ pages. So, **please review**.

I'm not kidding, that was a lot of work, so take a couple seconds to give me some feedback, will you?


	8. Freefall

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy, April 14, 2006

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended. Written with all respect towards the creators of Yu-Gi-Oh!

**Eight: Freefall**

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_"And the angel said—'I have learned that every man lives not through care of himself, but by love'…"  
—Leo Tolstoy _

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I woke up all at once, as if startled awake, although I couldn't remember exactly what nightmare had caused such a rude return to reality. I was surprised to find myself breathing hard, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Bits and pieces of my dream came back to me in disjointed flashes: Mokuba lying dead, the terrible look on Seto's face when he realized that he had lost his brother—_had I looked like that when I lost Miruko?—_and the steady image of the Kaiba mansion burning up in flames as the demon stood in front of it, watching.

Since I was curled up on my side in a position that was definitely awkward for my wings, I rolled over to my usual facedown position, taking the opportunity to stretch out my wings to their fullest extent, and then relaxing them so that they sprawled over the edges of the bed and beyond.

I had just realized that my wings were entirely healed when I felt something move underneath one of them. I jerked my wing up away from the thing and hastily rolled to the side, unfortunately misjudging the width of the bed because I rolled right off the edge. I fell to the floor with an audible and undignified _thump _but scrambled to my feet to peer at whatever had been sleeping in the bed with me.

Tousled brown hair on a long but muscular body… I gulped and unthinkingly took a step back, so surprised that I could only stare at him for an undeterminable period of time. Seto Kaiba, glacially cold and infamously wealthy CEO of his own company, had been lying next to me, asleep.

It was fascinating, to say the least, and in an unguarded moment, I indulged myself. It had been so long since I had really _looked _at him. I had gotten used to noticing his presence with a sort of hypersensitivity, an extra sense that might have to do with the fact that we were mentally bonded. I always looked at him out of the corner of my eye to avoid being caught starting.

He looked strangely young and defenseless in his sleep, his limbs all sprawled out with childish abandon and face peaceful. Dark lashes formed crescent moons and his tousled chestnut bangs made me want to touch. I found myself leaning forward, hand reaching out and almost feeling that pale, perfect skin beneath my fingertips. Common sense overcame the invisible forces of attraction and impulse however, and I drew back.

The white edges of my vision reminded me that I had something else to marvel over. I stretched out my wings and moved them, awed that they were completely undamaged. It would have been impossible for any human to heal so much damage in the space of some hours. For some reason I thought of Seto so close to me as I lay healing and felt a sense of completeness in the bond, as if it were perfect and right that angel and mortal should be together.

I sat back on the edge of the bed, careful not to cause too much disturbance with my added weight, and let my eyes close again. I had far better endurance that I ever had before, because I wasn't the least bit tired anymore. Somehow I thought this had something to do with Seto being near as well, and I entertained myself with thoughts of how it might be, if things were different. If he had not despised me before I became his angel. If our history hadn't been marked with passionate duels. If we hadn't been on opposites sides of the same war, and if my name hadn't been _Kaiba_.

But no, I thought, I didn't want to give even that up. True, we had fought against each other, but it had, in its own twisted way, drawn us closer together by the intensity of our emotions, if nothing else. He had carried me, afterward...why did my mind always return to this point? Unsuppressed yearning caught at my heart and I tried to banish it, forcing myself to bare my teeth in a false smile even with no one there to see.

After a long while, I rose again. I wasn't going to wait around for Seto to wake up, and I had no doubt that he would be discomfited and embarrassed to find that he had fallen asleep beside me…or even angry. Mokuba would be glad to see me if he was awake, and I thought I should probably check to find out what had happened to the demon.

Seto had probably called Yami about that too. A wry smile crossed my face, quickly turning into something more akin to bitterness than humor. To think that I had unwittingly brought Seto and the rival he longed for together. It hurt to think about it, but I focused on it anyway, using the ache to banish any dangerously tender feelings I might have had when it came to a certain mortal. _My _mortal, I thought, and sighed.

It wasn't as if he had had a choice.

"Amelda?" Mokuba's voice drew me out of my wistful thoughts and I found him at the door, as if uncertain whether he should come in. I gestured for him to enter, and he seemed slightly surprised that his brother occupied the bed instead of me. "Yami called back earlier. He said that because of a rip in the barrier separating this world and another, a demon was able to get through."

"Did Yami have any idea why it went after you?"

Mokuba hesitated and bit his lip. "He said that the demon's linked to Seto. I don't know why or how, but Yami thinks that it might be why you were bonded to him. To protect him, I mean."

The idea seemed credible, but if it was so, I wondered why I hadn't been given more specific instructions or at least some kind of warning. After all, until I had come face to face with one, I hadn't even thought that demons might exist. We could easily have been too late. Some of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Mokuba looked defiant.

"Don't you _want_ to protect him?"

It brought a smile to my lips. Oh, if only he knew… "Of course," I replied, and he looked mollified with that. The bruises around his neck had formed an ugly sort of necklace and I lightly touched them, wishing that I could heal them. Weren't angels supposed to be gifted with powers like that? Instead, all I had been given was a pair of wings I hadn't even known how to use, and a bond that neither of us had wanted.

I was simply annoyed that there were unnamed forces that seemed to delight in organizing our lives however they chose, without any care for how the people they manipulated might feel. If they had done any sort of research at all before we were bonded, they might have known that it wouldn't have worked out well. It was practically a fact that Kaiba had hated me, and I wasn't so sure that it wasn't so even now. We had come to a sort of agreement, to the point that I thought we might have even become friends or something like it…but I had no one to blame about that part but myself.

In light of the fight with the demon and my own miraculously healed injuries, I had almost forgotten about the kiss and its aftermath. It seemed like a long time ago, and insignificant. Mokuba had almost lost his life, but instead of focusing on important things, I was still hung up over something that Kaiba had probably dismissed as an effect of the bond. Which was exactly what I had told him, of course.

I was startled back to attention when I felt a gentle tug on my wing. Mokuba looked awed and despite knowing that I was sensitive about touching, he had reached out to check that they truly were as whole as they appeared.

"You healed?" he asked uncertainly.

"Apparently so," I said, laughing at the wondering expression on his face...and realizing that it wasn't just Seto that I cared so much about. "Hey Mokuba, do you know what Seto did with the demon? I'm afraid it'll wake up soon."

"He tied it up and left it in my bathroom," Mokuba promptly replied. "I slept in Seto's room."

"I'll go take a look at it." Catching myself before I could turn to look at his peacefully sleeping brother again, I started for the door.

"Amelda?"

Despite myself, I turned around – and surreptitiously stole a look. Something in Mokuba's grin made me wonder if my secret was really so obvious, but the kid had other things in mind, too. "What are you going to do with the demon? Are you going to kill it?"

Kill it? I hadn't even considered it, but I realized it was a problem that needed to be dealt with soon. After all, who knew when it would regain consciousness, or what it would try to do when it did? Even so, I balked at the idea of killing a thing larger than I was in its sleep. Almost morbidly, I wondered how much blood would be involved in the task of killing a demon.

"I don't think so, Mokuba. At least, not yet. Maybe Yami will have some ideas about how to send it back to wherever it came from." I tried to look hopeful, and was irritated again by the thought that those Above might have at least told me about what to do in situations like this.

Our voices, quiet as they were, had woken Kaiba up. He got out of the bed leisurely, as if not noticing that I had been occupying the same bed earlier, and I started for the door again, hearing Mokuba repeat the information Yami had given him and embellishing on some points.

"Good morning to you, too," Seto called after me.

My face heated and I was glad that my back was towards the two brothers. I stammered out something in reply and left before anyone could witness my sudden disconcertion.

o o o

At first I thought that I might have entered the wrong room. But no, the bathroom was as I had left it, and showed all evidence of the struggle that had gone on in its spacious marble glory. Some of the gleaming mirrors were cracked in the web-like patterns I remembered, and the floor was covered with the green-grey slime that I remembered. It reminded me also that I dearly needed a shower, since some of it had dried on me and had covered my clothes.

There were more pressing matters at hand, though. I stared into the empty bathroom, and then into the bathtub. No sign of the demon. There was a pair of handcuffs lying on the floor, however, and they hadn't been bent out of shape or otherwise indicative of tampering. Could Mokuba have confused the details of where Seto had left the demon? Or – had it just disappeared?

I headed straight back to Seto and Mokuba, interrupting just as Mokuba finished telling about how my wings had miraculously repaired themselves. "Where did you say you left the demon?"

"The bathroom. It _is _a little too heavy to move easily," he said with his usual sarcasm.

"Well then, we have a problem. It's not there anymore."

I had to admire Kaiba. Rather than asking anything stupid, he simply absorbed the information, looking deep in thought for a moment before his clear blue gaze caught mine, as direct as usual, and cold.

"This was there, though." I tossed the handcuffs over to him and his gaze darkened, in anger, I thought.

"Can demons shape shift? He didn't use brute force to get himself out of these."

I resisted the urge to retort sharply back at him, although my voice was colored with faint annoyance when I replied. "I know as little about this as you do, Kai—Seto."

"Aren't you supposed to know about this sort of thing?"

"Being an angel didn't come with an instruction book, you know." We were getting nowhere, and spite mingled with envy made me blurt out my next words. "Why don't you call Yami and ask? He's the one who's oh-so-great about this!"

Instead of reacting to my tone, Kaiba merely looked contemplative. "That's not a bad idea. But I think a personal visit is long overdue, considering the circumstances."

My heart sank at the words, but he was right. I was careful not to show my dismay, aware that Mokuba was looking closely at the two of us. "I'll go with you."

He seemed genuinely surprised at that, and too late, I realized that he had assumed that I would be going along. His presumption both annoyed me and warmed me. Seto simply nodded, however, and even consented to Mokuba's request to accompany us, although clearly he was averse to getting his little brother involved in more danger. Still, knowledge was power.

"Can this wait until after I have a shower?" I asked. "After all, the demon's already gone, and there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you want me to show up with this dried stuff all over me as proof that we really did encounter it."

This earned the merest hint of a smile on his face. "We should all wash up." Turning to his brother, he added, "And I want to take another look at those bruises, Mokuba. Come on."

Mokuba sighed but submitted to his brother's attention, and they headed away, presumably to Seto's room. I thought that Mokuba had borne the kidnapping attempt by a demon with considerable aplomb, but then I remembered how unimpressed he had been when I had first shown up in his brother's room, wings and all. Maybe Mokuba just had better imagination, or perhaps he'd simply seen a lot of weird and improbable things by being Yugi's friend.

Something bothered me, and once I finally figured out what it was, as I was getting reading for my shower, I wish I hadn't. Seto clearly loved his brother to the extent that he set aside his usual reserve, often ruffling Mokuba's hair lovingly or accepting hugs. Naturally, he had been concerned over Mokuba's recent bruises, and I found his worried older brother attitude almost cute, not that I would ever admit it.

My wings filled up the space around me as I relaxed under the hot water and scrubbed away the traces of my encounter with the demon, though by all comparisons it was a luxuriously large shower. Their sodden, heavy feel, even when reduced to transparent ghostlike outlines, reminded me that I had become something other than human, and drew my thoughts to other things, as well. I couldn't help but feel disappointed that Seto had cared not at all for my own injuries, not even expressing the slightest pleasure at their propitious healing.

I remembered how he had been so considerate just before I had fallen asleep, and how pleasant he could be when he lowered the invisible walls he put between himself and others. For a moment, I let myself daydream about how I could open him up, show the other side of him that I had glimpsed to the world. Even friends did that.

But who was I kidding, really? I didn't truly want to change him. I accepted him the way that he was, and I knew, anyway, that no one but Seto himself could effect such a change…and that was only if he decided that he wanted to change.

I wondered if Yami was enough of a reason.

o o o

The Turtle Game Shop was well decorated as a kid and teenager attraction, I noted absently as we passed by the loaded shelves, making for what seemed to be a back storage room. I trailed after Kaiba, who in turn was following Yugi and Yami, thankfully without their somewhat annoying friends. Whatever else their faults, at least we wouldn't have to spend half the day being bombarded with stupid questions about angels and demons.

As Yami walked past a glass case, I saw how his gaze first lingered on the torn and taped Blue-Eyes White Dragon card being displayed, then shifted to Kaiba. It was hard to tell exactly what was in those ruby orbs, or why he deliberately gave Kaiba a challenging smile.

The interaction between the two rival duelists was not lost on Yugi, and he flashed me an exasperated look. I didn't exactly feel like returning his friendly smile, but it was hard to resist the expression in those wide violet eyes. No wonder he'd been able to turn his bullies into his best friends.

I swept by Kaiba as we entered the small room, which indeed was filled with boxes but had a square table and chairs as well. Ahead of me, I heard Yugi give a slight gasp as the faint edges of my wings passed right through Kaiba's arm. The brunette shivered; I knew from questioning him that it felt like a small breeze or feather had brushed against his skin. He sent me a look, and I raised my eyebrows, daring him to say something as I took the seat opposite Yami, leaving him to sit next to his rival in the cramped space.

Yugi put a hand on my gloved arm to bring our attention back to him and his near twin, but drew back in surprise before I could indicate that I didn't like being casually touched.

"You're really hot to touch, Amelda," he said in surprise. "Do you have a fever?"

I shook my head in denial. "Angels have a slightly higher body temperature, I think. Probably to deal with the colder air, higher up. Beyond that, I don't know."

"They didn't teach you much in your three days, did they?" Kaiba commented acidly, as contemptuous as always. I was beginning to think _nothing _could faze him, not even demons on his doorstep. It gave me some small measure of comfort to know that Yugi and Yami had had to deal with his skepticism for far longer that I had.

"Not about these things, anyway," I said shortly. Let him wonder about exactly what I'd been taught.

"So, Yami, tell us about this demon of yours," Kaiba ordered. Yami stiffened at the tone, and Yugi gave me an eloquent glance, as if telling me to rein in my mortal. I almost rolled my eyes. What did he expect me to do, kick Kaiba under the table or something? Let Yugi play peacekeeper all he wanted, I simply wished to get whatever information we needed.

"Perhaps we should call it _your _demon, Kaiba. As far as I can tell, it's specifically attuned to you. I told you earlier that the Shadow Realm was in danger of joining with this world. Well, Yugi and I took care of that, not without some sacrifices of our own." He shared a rueful look with Yugi, and then his eyes turned slightly vacant, as if they were having a private conference in their heads.

It was somewhat creepy, and I shifted in my seat. Sure, I was bonded to Kaiba and I supposed we might have been able to do similar things, though the angels had said that it was limited to thoughts and feelings, so telepathic conversations were out. Still, I had spent most of the time blocking Kaiba, aside from the beginning when I eavesdropped a little. Having this bond was bad enough. Having Kaiba inside my head, able to know exactly what I thought of him? Death would definitely be preferable.

As I watched, whatever it was ended, possibly because Kaiba had grown quite impatient. "Any other information you'd like to share with us, or are you going to keep everything to yourselves?"

"We don't know much," Yugi admitted. "Before the barrier between the worlds was strengthened again, there were many weak points. We've been defeating those that had come through, but we think your demon took advantage of those weak points to cross from wherever he came from to here."

"Are you saying that the demon isn't from the Shadow Realm?" I asked in surprise.

Yami shook his head. "No creature like that exists that I have seen before, and its nature is different from the monsters that dwell inside the Shadow Realm."

"So it's really a demon and not some monster," I said, making it almost a question. I glanced over to Kaiba to see how he was taking all of this, and he looked impassive. I was sure that he was paying close attention, however.

"I think you would call yourself an angel, and not a monster," Yami pointed out. "I'm also sure you didn't come from the Shadow Realm."

"No," I agreed, and then hesitated. Were there bans on how much I could tell others about how I had ended up in my situation? Then again, if the angels hadn't seen fit to tell me about demons and all these things, I didn't think I owed them any secrecy. "Basically, I was killed. When I woke, I was in this white place, I had wings, and I was told I would be bonded to Seto Kaiba as his angel. This was all according to the orders of some people, or things, or spirits for all I know, called the 'Guardians of Faith.'"

"Heaven?" Yugi asked. I wondered if he had a faith, and what it was. After all, I was an angel, and I wasn't sure I believed in God's existence.

"They called it Above. I'm not sure what that's suppose to signify, but I'm guessing that if it's the equivalent of heaven, and angels come from there, then there's probably an opposite. Something where there are demons. Hell, maybe."

Kaiba interrupted us, finally. "Theological debates aside, can we focus on the point here? I don't care _what_ you call it, the thing tried to kill my brother, and I want it gone."

Yugi nodded agreeably. "I think the only way you can do that would be to send it back to wherever it came from, and seal it there. Amelda, do you know anything about this?"

"He doesn't know anything," Kaiba interjected before I could speak. He also ignored Yugi, as if considering him beneath notice. Instead, he addressed Yami. "I suppose _you _know how to seal it."

It was as close to asking for help as Kaiba likely would ever get, and Yami's rueful reply was filled with this knowledge. "We've been researching for you. Remember Rebecca, the girl who bypassed your security?"

From the look on Kaiba's face, he didn't appreciate the reminder. It sounded like an interesting story, probably at the expense of Kaiba's pride, and I resolved to get it out of Mokuba sometime when we got home. "If you guys have nothing else to add, I have far greater resources at my disposal for research than that…child." The pause was barely there, but quite enough to make it faintly insulting.

"As a matter of fact," Yami said smugly, "Rebecca came up with a lot. We know that in order to seal away the demon, it must be present. Then, there's some sort of ritual involved that requires the blood of the victim—your blood—mingled with what was termed 'the unholy union of blood from guardian and slayer.' With Amelda here, it seems pretty clear that you'll need angel blood and demon blood."

Kaiba studied Yami's expression. "That sounds like it was taken from a satanic cult," he said disparagingly. "If that's the kind of research you're referring to…"

"It's not," was the simply reply. "We filtered through a lot of information to get to it."

"The only problem is," Yugi added into the short, rather frosty silence after that, "we don't have the exact details of this ritual. That's where your resources are needed, Kaiba."

Kaiba didn't bother turning from Yami to look at his shorter counterpart. "What's the name of this ritual?"

Yami shrugged. "It most often comes up when you search for something with 'the triumviratus.' It's Latin for triumvirate, which makes sense in the context of man, angel, and demon."

Kaiba stood, surveyed the three of us at the table for a moment, and then swept out before anyone could say a word. Looking at Yami and Yugi, I supposed that this was his usual behavior towards them. I debated for a moment whether it was up to me to give thanks for their help, or if I was supposed to follow Kaiba's example. Then again, I didn't feel like being jerked around on Kaiba's leash.

"Thanks for the information," I said, trying to show that I was sincerely appreciative without exactly acting like I was apologizing for Kaiba's behavior. They weren't my enemies, and I knew that Raphael considered at least Yami his friend – Yami had saved his life once.

I got up, wondering what Yami had thought of his encounter with Seto. They'd known each other far before I had ever met them, and I knew a bit of their history. Mokuba had even told me of how they had worked together, unwillingly on Seto's part of course, during some sort of virtual reality test gone bad.

"You're welcome, Amelda." Yami's smile seemed authentic as well, and I thought I understood why Raphael had admired him. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for in bearing and poise. I supposed it came from the knowledge that the pharaoh welded as close to absolute power as a man could really get.

"Amelda?" Out in the main part of the shop, I looked back to find Yugi right behind me, my wings passing through him as I turned around. Yami, next to him, looked as if they had just had a disagreement. I waited, but not for long.

"Can you tell Kaiba to be at the park at eight o'clock tonight? It's something important," he said. I looked at him and then at Yami, whose stance had stiffened.

"I suppose I can try," I said before I knew what I was doing.

"Yami will be there waiting for him," Yugi said mysteriously, implying that he wouldn't be present himself. "Next to the fountain."

I suddenly had an idea of where this was going, and doubly wished that I hadn't promised to relay the message to Kaiba a moment earlier. Finding it a little difficult to speak, I simply inclined my head in acknowledgement and left.

o o o

Kaiba's reaction, when I finally told him as we were waiting for security to open the gates to the mansion, was entirely predictable. Secretly, I had almost convinced myself to 'forget' to have told him of the meeting that Yugi, or maybe Yami, had arranged. I told myself that doing something like that would be proof that I was succumbing to a well-known green-eyed monster. When all else fails, I could always appeal to my sense of pride.

"I don't answer to his beck and call," he all but growled.

Sometimes I hated how my sense of honor decided to make itself known at inopportune times. I felt obliged to point something out to him, just in case that I was wrong and it wasn't a 'personal meeting' at all. "Last time, you wouldn't listen to Yami when he told us about the demon, and Mokuba suffered for it."

As usual, I was sitting in the seat directly behind him rather than in the passenger seat. His eyes met mine in the rear mirror briefly as the black gates slowly opened to admit us. I wondered what he was thinking, but when I carefully dropped the block for a bare moment, all I could feel was puzzlement.

"I suppose I'll go see what he wants," he said reluctantly, after we'd left the car. He'd turned it over to someone else to park, and we headed back to the massive double doors that were at the very front of the mansion, although I thought it would have been easier to enter through any of the entrances closer. The short walk gave us more time to talk, however. I had made sure that he understood that Yugi wouldn't be accompanying Yami, and I suppose he was warning me now that he would be going to the rendezvous alone, as well.

"Well, I'll be at _Paradise_. We've got a big thing tonight, and Chris suggested to Emerson that we debut a new song. Haruko's singing with me…you remember him, right? He's our drummer Riuko's brother." I probably would have gone on telling him miscellaneous information, but he'd heard so much about my bandmates that I was sure he would be annoyed. I just didn't want us to fall into silence, since I was sure that it wouldn't be a comfortable one. If it meant inane babbling on my part…well, that was preferable.

I looked at the bushes in the front garden as we were weaving through the shrubbery, thinking that it was so like Kaiba not to have flowers anywhere in sight. The greenery was appealingly arranged, though, and created an atmosphere of somewhat European refinement without overdoing it. Something rustled in one, and I looked over, wondering if it was a bird. Instead, sunlight glinted off something, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to see what strange things Kaiba might have put in his garden.

I had slowed down a little, and Kaiba turned around, probably to be a jerk again, as he didn't seem to be in the best of moods after knowing that he'd meet with Yami again tonight. He followed my gaze even as I shifted my attention to him, and I saw his eyes widen as he recognized whatever I hadn't.

"Amelda, get down!" he shouted, just as a deafening blast of sound made me freeze in place, a sort of deer-in-the headlights panic washing over me. It took another fraction of a second to understand that the sound was gunfire, which meant that somebody was shooting at us. I heard Kaiba mutter a curse, but I had turned towards the thing I had seen in the bushes earlier.

I didn't have time for a sense of déjà vu as, for the second time in my life, I found myself staring at a gun pointed towards me. Then, the next moment, something hard slammed into me. I fell painfully onto the ground while more gunshots resounded, some drowned out by the sudden blaring of alarms. Someone had triggered the security system – but rather too late to really provide warning, I thought wildly.

"Stay down," Seto's hoarse voice commanded, and I obeyed numbly, finally able to move, although I felt strange from the rush of adrenaline through my veins. I don't know how long we lay there, breathing roughly as our ears strained for the expected sound of more gunfire. We were hidden by some kind of bush with glossy green leaves, and he was heavy on me.

After a while, Kaiba rolled off of me and I cautiously sat up, asking him with a wordless question what we were supposed to do right now. He shook his head at me and made as if he'd go off alone, then proceeded to stand before I could stop him.

Our attacker stepped out stealthily from nearby, probably having been searching for us since we disappeared. He was wearing mottled green clothes that effectively prevented us from seeing his face: there was a hood, and he had fixed a piece of black cloth across his face so that only his angry dark eyes showed.

I scrambled to my feet. I think we surprised each other, which told me that at least he was an amateur and not some hired professional assassin. Still, that didn't help much. I expected him to be after me, but his gun was aimed unwaveringly at Kaiba.

_Don't shoot, don't shoot, don't shoot…_ The refrain pounded inside my head.

"What do you want?" I asked to stall him, my voice sounding much too normal for the situation. I felt lightheaded and paralyzed; I didn't even turn my head to look at how Kaiba was taking everything out of the corner of my eye.

The man turned to face me more directly, and I realized why Kaiba might have remained so strangely silent. The black cloth concealing the man's face was pinned to the hood with something that looked very familiar indeed – a gold KC lapel pin. I stared at it unseeingly for a moment as I finally understood that it was the same man.

As in, the one who had killed me.

He must have seen the recognition fill my face, because a husky sound came from him, which I understood to be a laugh. "_Amelda_…"

"Who are you," I whispered.

"Won't you dance for me?" He ignored my question, instead running his eyes over my body the way countless people had during Devastation's performances. I felt sick.

I knew Kaiba had hired security guards and that more than usual were patrolling the grounds today because of demon still out there. They would have had heard the gunshots, and even if not that, the alarms had gone off. If we could prolong this for even a few more minutes…

"Who are you?" I asked again.

"Your greatest fan," came the slightly muffled reply. "Someone who's come to free you of _him_."

The man sounded almost crazed, and he probably was, at least a little. The least I could do was to keep playing this as he wanted. I did turn my head then, slightly, but enough to see that Kaiba was standing motionless but in a stance that looked ready for flight.

"Why? He's helped me, he's not my enemy." I kept my tone reasonable, but it was evidently the wrong thing to say.

Our assailant shifted his stance, pointing the gun at Kaiba in a two-handed grip. "Lies," he said derisively. "He's kept you at his side at all times. He wanted you for himself. He wanted you to die…but today, he's the one I've come to kill."

I tried not to listen, but the words had awoken fears that I hadn't known still resided in me. It sounded as if Kaiba had sent this man to kill me, but instead had been betrayed. I tried to think of how Kaiba had looked and reacted when the gunman had first appeared – had there been recognition, perhaps? Was this why he was silent, and why the security still hadn't come, even though they should already have?

_Was this all a set-up?_

"You don't want to do this," Kaiba said suddenly to the man, softly and persuasively. "Amelda's here of his own free will."

"Oh, is that what you call it?"

"You don't want to do this," Kaiba repeated, causing the other to take a step threateningly forward at the tone. "Really, you don't."

"Why shouldn't I? He's _mine_, but you've been his enemy. You've secretly watched him dance, all those times when he was practicing. You went with him to the mountains. And today," the man snarled, anger suddenly overriding reason, "_today _you slept with him in the same bed!"

It was almost like a blow to the gut. I looked over at Kaiba, absolutely certain that he was as surprised as I was. How long had this man been spying on us? But the questions that passed through my mind were all silenced when the man advanced even further, until Kaiba had instinctively taken a step back.

"This is for you, Amelda," the man said.

Right before I watched him squeeze the trigger.

Kaiba jerked back at the impact of the bullet and then fell as I watched in horror, forgetting everything as I crossed the few feet that had separated us. I caught at him as he sank to his knees and hunched over, his hands pressed to his chest. At my first touch of him, the previously blocked off bond had opened and my wings had suddenly come into existence, softly glowing white in a way that I had never seen before.

It wasn't the heart. But I instinctively knew that it didn't matter, the bullet had ripped through flesh and probably pierced the lung as well. The wound was close enough to the heart and bad enough that he would die anyway. It would just mean that he wouldn't die right away, and that he would be in more pain.

But none of that mattered anyway, because he simply _couldn't_ die.

"Seto—"

He opened his eyes as I pressed my hands to his chest, trying to stop the blood from gushing forth. All I felt from him was pain, sharp and intense, and I dropped to my knees to help him as he fell onto his back. My hands were slick with blood; his came up to grab at mine.

His eyes were lucid but shuttered, and this time I knew what the ice was hiding. He was ignoring the pain, even doing his best to close off his side of the bond so that I wouldn't share it. Phantom pain passing through my body, leaving me dizzy and weak, as he must be feeling.

"You can't let him get away again," he said clearly and far more logically than I could comprehend. I stared into his blue eyes and pale face, then looked up at last to find that the man had left, having done what he had came for.

But I wouldn't let Seto Kaiba die.

o o o

A/N: Next update will be soon. I originally said that the story would have ten chapters, but some of these chapters are ridiculously long because I wasn't paying attention to that kind of stuff when I was typing this up. I just took a look, and the next chapter document has about 40 pages, which means I'll be breaking it up. So, the total won't really be ten chapters after all – my best estimation is that it'll be fifteen once I'm done editing.

**Please review**! Sadly enough, feedback reminds me that I have to really get this story posted...and if you like the story so far, I think you'll _love_ the rest.

- E.D.


	9. Breaking Point

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy, July 21, 2006

Disclaimer: Please see the previous ten chapters. No copyright infringement intended. Written with all respect towards the creators of Yu-Gi-Oh! DO NOT plagiarize this story.

**Nine: Breaking Point**

_"A man does not always choose what his guardian angel intends."  
— Thomas Aquinas_

**  
**

There was so much blood, more blood than I thought possible for a human body to contain. I knelt besides him, trying futilely to stem the flow as I looked at him, my mind impossibly blank as every nerve in my body screamed with pain. Seto was trying to block it from me, trying to shut down his end of the bond—I didn't understand why until some glimmer of his thoughts came to me.

He thought he would die, and he didn't want me to feel it. Or worse, take me with him, because he thought it was a possibility.

"NO!" The cry burst from me and all of a sudden the mental walls broke, numbness succumbing to pure anguish. Seto's hand clenched in mind, the spasm of mental and physical pain passing through both of us like magnified echoes.

"Amelda, there's nothing you can do," he got out, but even his voice sounded weak. I shook my head in silent denial. All this time, all this angel and mortal stuff, it couldn't end like this, because of some insane fan with a gun. Seto Kaiba couldn't be killed by a bullet. Not _him_, not the intense, alive mortal with his blue eyes full of turmoil.

The world that he lived in was supposed to have stock market crashes and company takeovers, not something as brutal and crude as a gun. All I could focus on was the absurdity of it all. The blood was so brightly crimson that it didn't even look real. My thoughts tumbled over and over with no recognizable pattern, panic battling with the need to somehow reverse this, somehow negate the fact that Seto Kaiba, my enemy and the one person I cared most about in the world, was dying.

Doctors. Doctors could save him if rushed him to the emergency room. I needed to call for help right now. I fumbled for a moment in the pocket of my jacket for my cell phone, but Kaiba's other hand caught mine before I could pull it out.

"Leave it. It's no use." He held my hands between his own, the sticky blood like an adhesive holding his warm fingers to mine. The temperature of my skin was too warm to be human, as hot as if I had had a fever that affected even my hands. Only one of the minor side effects of being an angel, but what did it matter? I was an angel and I still couldn't do anything but watch as Seto's life slipped away.

"No…" I didn't recognize my own voice, the sound raw and filled with desperation. Fear channeled into anger before I even realized it. I had been killed just as easily, my life ended in a dingy street outside of a club that had pulsed with energy, with life, because of what I had brought to it. It wasn't right.

None of this was _right_, and the injustice of it poured through my veins in the form of red-hot anger. The soft glow of my wings, which had begun when I had first touched Seto, flared into something blindingly white. I heard him gasp, felt his surprise as the bond between us ripped open until for a moment I lost the sense of who I was and couldn't tell where I began and where he ended.

In that eternal moment, I felt it. He was dying and we both knew it. But I knew that once, not that long ago, I had been the one lying there, dying in the narrow alley outside of the club. I might have lost my mortality, but I was still here. A name crossed my mind and my anger focused on it, nourishing the rage that grew from the sense of wrongness.

_ASRIEL. _

The fullblooded angel who had been born and bred to his role, who had never been human as ascended angels were—who could not understand what it meant to be human or what human love meant. I wanted him here; I wanted to scream at him to fix this, to force him to tell me what to do now that everything was so wrong. I called him, reaching somewhere deep inside of myself, beyond the physical pain, the panic, beyond even the despair that stole away my vision, blurring everything with hot tears.

And Asriel answered my silent demand, appearing as if out of nowhere, between one moment and another. It didn't matter, only that I needed him and he was here, all enormous snowy wings and disturbing eyes, the irises fading from dark blue to a stormy grey even he gazed down at Seto. He was so calm, compared to my furious anger. I grabbed his hand, heedless of the blood, and when I did his wings began to glow as brightly as my own.

"Help me," I begged him. "Asriel, he's dying. I can't—I don't know what to do, you have to tell me!"

"Amelda, what hast thou done?" For a moment the musical and calm timbre of his voice made me pause, but it was as if something in me snapped. I raised my hand to hit him but his reflexes were even faster than mine, and he forced me down to kneel besides Seto.

"The power to hurt, the power to heal," he hissed, the underlying melody in his words disappearing as if it had never been there. "Dost thou understand, Amelda?"

Before I could reply, the angel forced my hands onto Seto's wound. The renewed contact seemed to throw open the bond and I nearly screamed at the ghostly, yet very much real pain washing over me.

"Thou must take it all unto thyself," Asriel said grimly. "'Tis our nature; we cannot undo the damage to others, only that which is truly ours to bear. Thus you must take what is his and make it yours, through the bond."

It was what I wanted to hear, that somehow the fact that I was an angel would finally mean something, would make a difference. "Show me how, Asriel!"

His reluctance was clear and time was running out. "Should the wound prove too grievous for even an angel to heal, thou _wilt _perish."

It took me a moment to understand what Asriel meant: that if I did this, I could be trading my own life for Seto's. I looked at where he lay, eyes closed as if in sleep, but I knew he had fallen unconscious from blood loss, and I didn't dare to let myself hesitate. How many precious minutes had already passed since Asriel came?

He saw the answer in my eyes even before I softly said yes. Some kind of personal sorrow filled his now amber eyes but I ignored it. "So be it. It is a great thing thou hast asked of me, yet I understand. Should the mortal we guard die, the angel is bereft and oft seeketh death as well, unable to bear the severance of the bond."

Asriel did not give something as simple as instructions. Instead I felt a brush in my mind and when I focused on it, I touched his presence, felt the strangeness of thoughts not my own in my mind. As if my mind were a labyrinth, he led me confidently to knowledge and I immersed myself in it.

I closed my eyes, kneeling there next to him, and then I wasn't in the same place anymore, as if I had been transported to another dimension of existence. It was easier than it should have been, which was a bad sign—Seto was so weak that even his subconscious did not resist as I made the necessary alterations. I shivered as, for a moment, it was as if our metaphysical selves brushed against each other and neither wanted to break the connection now that it had been made, like the last pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.

I thought that I had been prepared for it; I had felt the sensations of dying before and Seto's pain and odd peacefulness as his body gave up the fight had channeled to me through the bond. Yet I still came back into myself with a gasp, finding that Asriel stood over my prone body like a guardian and that I had somehow curled up besides Seto. Immediately it was a fight to even remain aware of my surroundings; living was so tiring. It was only until I heard Seto's voice that I realized the bond was still open and he was getting the echoes of what I felt.

I struggled to block it off, unable to focus as much as I needed, especially with Kaiba's surprised exclamation at finding himself unharmed. It was his turn to bend over me, eyes very wide, very blue, and very large as he leaned closer, saying something that my ears interpreted as a mumble, as if he were speaking through background noise. I closed my eyes, finding that it helped my concentration and sighing just a little. It was such a blessed relief to acquiesce to the demands of my body.

"Amelda…what the hell did you do? _Amelda_…" such an insistent voice, and I wanted it to go away and leave me alone. I think I muttered something to this effect, which silenced the voice for a moment before it resumed, this time with hands on my shoulders, shaking me.

It wasn't as if I didn't know who it was, but it was so much effort to care, and it wasn't even about the immediate situation. It was months of believing that it was enough to love someone and not be loved back. It was constantly wishing that he could actually be called a friend, mixed with the paradox of living in your former enemy's house. It was knowing that there were moments when the tension might have broken, when I could have answered the question that had been in my mind for so long in a matter of minutes. But I was too much of a coward to even want a definite answer; I preferred not to even find out what he felt toward me, simply because it was easier to continue this one-sided emotional attachment.

I hadn't realized how much it had worn me down, not saying the words I should have said and knowing now that it was too late. No matter how many times I replayed the kiss in my mind, I couldn't take back my words. It was for the best, I objectively knew that, but pretending not to care for him, never knowing what could have been…that pressure was what I couldn't bear.

Hot tears slid out of the corners of my closed eyes and I felt Kaiba let go of me, and then his warm hands were gently brushing against my cheeks where they were wet. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry – sorry for letting him down, sorry for myself and my stupidity in persisting in loving someone who didn't care.

Instead, I welcomed the peaceful and painless oblivionthat rose up to swallow me.

o o o

"Seto, shouldn't we take Amelda to the hospital?"

"He has his wings, Mokuba. Taking him there would raise too many questions and I can't risk him being held as some kind of medical miracle case." The response was calm, logical, but I heard the subtle shades of concern.

"But he's hurt so badly!"

"He'll heal," came the brusque reply. It was rare to hear Seto Kaiba sound uncertain of anything, but it was in his tone now.

"Are you sure he won't die?" asked Mokuba, voice higher-pitched with anxiety. "What did Asriel say?"

I was warm and so tired that it felt as if even the marrow of my bones ached. Above it all, I was dimly aware of Seto's soothing response to his brother, of a small hand in mine, but the sensations that came to me were layered and I drifted in and out of consciousness. I wished for a moment, terribly, that Raphael were here. He had always patched Varon and me up whenever we got into scrapes, and I wanted that old familiarity. Not finding the comfort I wanted, I let myself fall asleep again.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when I was woken again by a familiar voice that for a moment I could not place.

"Is he all right?" He sounded surprised by my condition, certainly, and concerned for my sake, but calm through it all.

There was a long pause, almost long enough for me to figure out who that familiar-yet-not voice belonged to, and then a low and hoarse reply. "I don't know."

"But he's healing?"

"I…" The sound of soft yet confident footsteps across the room as Seto faltered. "I can't look."

Just three small words, as before, but there was such a world of admission in them. There was a barely audible intake of breath, then, as if encouraged by that perceptive reaction from the other, a soft whisper. "Please, Yami…"

An even softer whisper, full of tender hurt: "Since when have you begged, Seto?"

I turned my head slightly away as if it would prevent the voices from reaching my ears, eyes still closed. Neither gave any sign that they had noticed my movement.

"I can't feel him at all. There's this bond between us…because he's my angel. But it's as if he's not there anymore."

Cold air suddenly washed over me as hands peeled back blankets, presumably to look at the wound. I was more than half-awake now, but torn between wanting to remain oblivious to it all—or at least pretend that it was possible—and stopping this before I became a silent witness to more. With every minute that passed, my head cleared more. It was difficult to breath, but not because of any direct physical cause.

I opened my eyes involuntarily when Yami cut open my bloodstained shirt with scissors and almost injured myself again by rising up abruptly. Yami, also surprised by the suddenness of my waking, nearly dropped the scissors on me. "How do you feel, Amelda?"

"Not bad, I guess." I tried to be flippant but I was one of those people who found it hard to take near death in any way other than seriously, and it came out sounding grudging. It would have been nice if I had been completely healed of what had technically been Kaiba's wound, but I had no such luck. When I looked down, all I saw was half-dried blood smeared over everything. Thankfully Yami had been prepared for it and wordlessly handed me a wet towel. He stood next to me and studied me with careful eyes as I tried my best to clean up.

It wasn't a deep wound anymore, more like a shallow, circular hole where the bullet had entered, and it bled only sluggishly. "I'm all right."

Mokuba, entering the room as I made this pronouncement about my health, flung himself at me—or at least, thankfully, to the side of the bed. I gave him a warm hug, careful not to bleed on him, and when he had detangled himself from me, I looked up to see his older brother. Nobody seemed to know what to say; Yami offered me gauze and helped make bandages for me.

"I was worried when Kaiba didn't show up for our meeting," he told me. I half-expected that the brunette would correct Yami's use of his name, as he always seemed to take offense when I dared call him Kaiba, but he remained characteristically and stubbornly silent.

"So you came here to find out why, or to get Seto to speak with you," I filled in for Yami.

"Basically," Yami admitted. "Except when I arrived you were close to dying—or so we thought—and Kaiba was almost incoherent. I barely understood what had happened from his account, but he was at least clearheaded enough to get rid of the security guards before they could call the police and _really _raise some awkward questions. He brought you in, Mokuba met him inside, and after that, they didn't exactly know what to do. Then at eight thirty I came."

"Then what time is it now?" I asked.

"Twenty minutes to ten."

For some reason 10:00 seemed significant in my mind and I struggled to figure out why. Demon? No, we had no idea when it would come back to haunt us. At least it hadn't coincidentally attacked at the same time as…my insane, homicidal fan? The word _fan _reminded me of the band and with it, what I had forgotten. I bolted upright and scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed, although the sudden movements made me lightheaded, as if I had lost a lot of blood. I probably had.

"_Devastation!_ We have a huge performance tonight and I was supposed to debut the new song, the duet with Haruko. Shit, Emerson's going to kill me if I can't make it. It's a big deal and the tickets sold out for really high prices."

Yami's eyes widened momentarily and he opened his mouth to speak even as I stood up and unsteadily went to the closet of the room, pulling out random clothes in search for something appropriate. But Kaiba's voice cut him off harshly. "Are you insane? You almost died and you're worrying about your little singing show?"

"_Little singing show?_" I said in disbelief, whirling around with a bundle of cloth. "Thanks for letting me know exactly what you think of us, Kaiba, but I don't believe I asked for your opinion."

Despite my anger, or because of it, I wavered a little on my feet and sat back down not so gracefully on the bed. Ordinarily, one missed performance—in light of the fact that Kaiba, and then I, had almost died—would not have been that big of a deal. Yes, it was a lot of hassle for Emerson, who would then have to deal with angry fans who had bought tickets, but unexpected cancellations were…well, almost an expected thing. Except this particular show meant the world to Emerson because his family was attending. His parents were ultra-traditional and had all but disowned him when he had quit medical school after getting a double degree in Biology and Chemistry in college…and all for music.

Not just any music, either. Emerson, like many dutiful children, had years of classical piano and violin lessons as a child. It might not have been quite as bad if he had chosen, for instance, to become a concert pianist. Except the instrument that he _did _choose was the guitar, and the music he was interested in was more rock than Mozart. The whole drama was complicated by the fact that he was an only child. Emerson, of course, only told me the barest details of this five year rift, but the other band members had discreetly filled me in.

So yes, the performance was a large and important one, but even more so because there were personal issues riding on it. I could only imagine what would happen if Emerson's parents had finally extended the olive branch, gone to the trouble of arranging to come, and found out that the show was cancelled. It might just confirm their worst fears about their son's chosen profession, regardless of _Devastation's_ rising star status.

All in all, I _was _healed…and I was determined to go. Naturally, it couldn't be as simple as all that when you factored Kaiba into the equation. Yami wisely chose to stay out of it, and somehow restrained Mokuba from leaping to defend either of us.

"I won't let you go," was Kaiba's steely statement.

"I don't believe I asked for your permission," I retorted. I dragged on a black tank top over my head—covering a lot of skin for the sake of Emerson's parents' sensibilities—and decided that it would have to do. I kept my black pants, but when I looked in the mirror the unrelieved black on black looked almost formal, yet plain. The fans deserved a show, too, regardless of Emerson's parents.

Kaiba was pacing angrily around the room, making it seem a little too small. I chose to ignore him and picked out some silver chains, trying to go for an understated but memorable look in the little time that I had to prepare. Yami offered his opinions on some of them, evidently agreeing with me that Kaiba was being unreasonable, and when we finished, I did a quick check in the mirror again.

I looked almost like a less rebellious version of Yami. The sight, mixed with nerves and lingering illness, made me burst into laughter. No one joined in and I caught myself, checking the time. I would definitely be late, but that would be all right in the end. I started for the door.

Kaiba strode to stand in front of it. I raised my eyebrow, silently asking if he realized how ridiculous he was acting. "It's not safe for you to go, Amelda. That psycho is still out there and he's probably bought seats to the concert tonight, all happy that he killed me. Can you really bring yourself to sing and dance the way you do, knowing that he's probably out there in the crowd?"

Put that way, I did feel the usual before-performance butterflies in my stomach change to snakes. I reminded myself that Emerson's parents would also be in the crowd, and that my friend was counting on me, but I still hesitated.

"And have you forgotten that the demon is still roaming around out there?"

Now that one I had a reply to. "Do you seriously think it would risk revealing itself in the middle of a packed crowd?"

"Don't go. It's not that important."

"It _is _important, Kaiba. It's not just a performance, it's a long story and you probably wouldn't understand anyway, but Emerson is really depending on this tonight, and I won't let him down."

"Oh, so you would put this _Emerson_'s happiness above your own life?" It wasn't like Kaiba to dramatize, but I had forgotten that the subject of Emerson had been a sore point with him. Unfortunately, Kaiba was pushing me to my limits with Yami and everything else, and I didn't have time to soothe his injured ego, or whatever it was that was the problem.

"You have no right to say that," I snapped at him, temper rising. "In case you forgot, Kaiba, I died once because of you and damn near died again _for _you, and I don't see you being all that torn up about it."

Yami tried to intervene but I talked right over him and he fell silent. "Emerson is one of my best friends; he took a big risk by accepting me into the band and he's always had my welfare and happiness in mind. So you can take your fake concern and shove it, because if you really think that I would believe that you'd be concerned if I were killed doing my 'little singing show,' you're mistaken."

Kaiba's eyes glittered with fury and his skin was unnaturally pale. "You're right, I don't care. You can go strip onstage with Emerson for all I care. Why don't you fuck him there, too."

I hissed in anger and barely restrained myself from hitting him as I shoved past him and out the door, slamming it behind me. Only it didn't slam. I didn't look back as I strode down the hall, but I could sense that Kaiba had caught it with his hand. I could all but feel his gaze on me, and, furious and inexplicably hurt, I mentally slammed my side of our bond shut.

I hoped that the sudden cutoff hurt him more than it hurt me.

o o o

I met Emerson's parents very briefly during a break between sets. I hadn't been expecting the introductions, but I thought it was a good gesture on Emerson's part, since after talking to us personally his parents looked as if they relaxed a little. They were probably surprised to find that we were intelligent, fairly normal human beings that sported no Mohawks (although some interesting hair colors and styles), rows of piercings, heavy gothic makeup, or anything stereotypically grotesque.

Basically we managed to look exotic, but not really in a freakish way that would offend people of a certain older age group. My eyes _had _been subtly enhanced by some dark stuff—I knew next to nothing about makeup—and my skin lightly sprayed with something like very fine golden glitter, but aside from that, I was mostly myself.

As I lost myself in the music, gradually settling my nerves, I managed to almost completely forget about everything: the fan possibly out there in the crowd, my death scare, and the argument with Seto. Most especially the last. I was determined not to let it affect my performance and therefore threw myself into the concert with an almost feverish dedication. The crowd loved it and the feeling built. My bandmates grinned and played better than ever, our individual units merging into one beautiful whole.

During the duet with Haruko I danced something completely new and more experimental than the usual hip-hop based routine. I could afford to do things that took more energy without worrying about being out of breath because the vocal parts switched off for much of the song. So it was a rare moment when I could concentrate solely on dancing and I loved the song for it. We tossed the melody between us, voices blending seamlessly. Haruko's voice hadn't been strong enough to be lead, but he was extremely talented with it came to harmonizing with others. He had the rare gift of making anyone else sound better than they were alone.

Towards the end, I saw them. Kaiba and Yami were in the crowd, surprisingly near the stage, probably due to their sheer force of will because the place was packed. Kaiba, I could understand, maybe, because of course he would be concerned with safety now that both he and Mokuba had been attacked. I _was_, after all, the guardian angel who was supposed to guard him. It was also a kind of compulsion to be near, a survival mechanism that no doubt made it easier for angels to keep track of their wayward mortals in order to be able to provide defense—the whole reason why I had moved in with Kaiba in the first place.

Yami, I guessed, was here with Kaiba just because. Of course, he had wanted to meet with Kaiba privately, and they probably had never gotten around to talking about whatever he had planned to bring up, although the middle of a rock concert wasn't exactly a good place to be holding conversations. I suppose it could be a good place to officially hook up.

Haruko gave me a glance and I realized that I had missed taking up the melody. For a few heartbeats, nothing but the instrumental music played. I looked at the two, easier to see because they weren't moving as the crowd was, and began to improvise—not so much the lyrics as the rhythm and melody.

What had been unified voice and instruments became something different, like two threads entwined but never touching, simply spiraling on into eternity. It was almost a fight for supremacy, yet in a fashion that was so stylized, so graceful that there was a beauty to it. The song was a story between star-crossed lovers who never were, but everyone had always hoped would be. The lyrics were Emerson's, not mine, since I had decided to focus on the dance aspects of the act. As I sang them now, I felt as if I had never truly understood what it meant, because I had never experienced it until now.

_What hurts the most  
Was being so close  
And having so much to say  
And watching you walk away  
And never knowing  
What could have been…_

I held the last note, closing my eyes and hearing the perfect silence of the audience, like those moments in a large room when somehow there's a lull in the conversation and everything comes to a halt for a moment before regular lives resume and new topics are brought up. Even the applause at the end began slowly, as if people were still adjusting to the rawness of the song. It was a new song, they had never heard it before, and there was never a good way to predict how the fans would respond. But respond they did, and as I waited for them to die down, I looked out into the crowd again.

After I had seen Yami and Kaiba, it proved to be impossible to ignore them. My eyes kept on drifting back to that section and unerringly picked out the spiky, gravity-defying, tri-colored hair. I was just a tiny bit amused that Kaiba had come wearing his usual trenchcoat. Together they made a certain stereotype come to mind: the rich pimp with his toy. I couldn't figure out the mix of envy, horror, morbid amusement, and some unidentifiable feeling that rose up in me when I thought of it.

The last song was fast and energetic, a flirtatious melody with equally flirtatious lyrics to end the evening. Emerson and I had worked together on this one and he had actually been hesitant to keep it in the repertoire for tonight because of his parents. There was nothing in it that would require editing for a radio release, but it was definitely sexual and invited dancing. At least, _I_ danced. What happened out there was more like grinding.

I didn't want any stripper undertones, however innocent or otherwise, especially with Emerson's parents to impress. Still, I'd put on a jacket before crooning the duet with Haruko and it was restrictive, so I took it off...and almost screwed up again for the second time in the evening when I realized that Yami was dancing.

And he was, very simply put, incredible.

I kept seeing glimpses of him as I performed onstage, even though I forced myself to concentrate on what I was doing. Watching them, I realized what I had lost, without Kaiba ever having any notion that there hade been a battle. I had been careful to shut him out, after all. I didn't want to see, but I did, just as I hadn't wanted to hear their conversation as I had woken up.

Yami had reached out to put his hand on Kaiba's wrist and while I expected Kaiba to draw away, he did not. Even from this distance, it was as if I could see every detail of his face. Perhaps it was the bond, perhaps not. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes a pure, brilliant sapphire.

I felt as if they were the performers and I was just one hopelessly devoted fan in the crowd. In my mind a spotlight shone on them and the crowd turned to Yami in a slow ripple effect, until the band on the stage was just in the very outer vestiges of the crowd, where it was dark and too many tall people blocked you from seeing anything. Yami looked flushed, too, lips parted as he breathed, looking exhilarated from spending the night with his ex-rival by his side.

Somehow it was all so ironic that he was dancing to _my _music, that they had come to my concert, as if I were helping to bring them together. Maybe I had. After all, my near-death today had strengthened the pull of their magnetism. Everything was surreal.

Toward the end of the show I was supposed to venture out into the crowd and choose one person to take with me back to the stage. It was always risky to do so; you never knew when excited fans would mob you, and I remembered again that the fanatic that had attacked me twice could be out there. Sometimes we left that part of the performance out if the crowd grew too wild, sometimes spurred on by illegal drugs that took our concert out of our control. But on the nights that we did do it, it was the climax of the evening. It was a chance to dance with me, a chance to be raised from one of the masses to temporary celebrity status. Some things money couldn't buy, and those things are especially precious because of it.

I generally marked targets and observed them near the end of the concert to see if they were suitable. Choose the wrong person and he or she might see it as permission to touch you, or worse yet, try to rip off your clothes. I'd marked a teenage girl and had almost decided to bring her up when, halfway into the crowd, I changed my mind. I walked to the very end of the platform extending into the crowd and leaned down, reaching out deliberately to one and only one person.

Dark crimson eyes widened in surprise, but Yami's grasp was steady, and I pulled him up. He followed me up to the higher stage and when he was visible to the crowd, cries and whistles of appreciation broke the sultry, throbbing beat of the song's introduction. The crowd roared with even more approval when Yami, at my look, began to dance.

I looked exotic; Yami defined and exuded exotic. He had chosen his outfit carefully but his tastes hadn't changed, and we still looked somehow alike, yet different. A velvet collar circled his throat and from it a wickedly sharp spike rested in the hollow of his throat. His skin was naturally dark gold and tan, contrasting sharply with the black leather pants, beyond skin tight and cut low. They clung to Yami's hips, forming clean, flawless lines when he moved, although the thoughts that the dancing evoked were anything but clean. Ruby eyes were outlined in what I knew had to be kohl, and gold sparkled from the three absurdly delicate bracelets encircling each wrist.

Yami, seemingly always so dominant, had dressed to be shown off as a prize, and I took on the role. I felt hurt, betrayed by Kaiba, even though there was nothing for him to betray, and it was this knowledge that spurred me on. After all, I was his angel. I was supposed to want the best for him, to make him happy, however high the price was for me. Maybe it helped that Yami was so obviously a good person. Kaiba and I—we would be like fire and dynamite. Explosive, maybe some pretty fireworks, but we argued constantly anyway, and it would never work.

When had I ever been at peace with Kaiba? I thought of our mountain escape and of flying with him and knew I would always remember it as one of the best moments in my life. But something always ruined it for us so that there always seemed to be tension. I couldn't even really call him a friend. Most of it was probably my fault, because rationally or not, I always wanted something more from him—because I was the one in love with him, and he was the one who didn't know. Or if he did know, I preferred to pretend he didn't, because the alternative was that he _didn't care_.

Yami and I had fallen into a kind of synchronization. He copied my moves three beats after me, so that it created an echo or shadow effect, made more striking by our similar clothing. I glanced at Kaiba; his gaze was riveted on us. I moved closer to Yami, careful to still give him space as the tempo increased slightly for the end.

Despite everything, I had to admit I was enjoying myself. It wasn't often that one got to dance with someone of Yami's skill and I wondered for a moment how he'd come by it. But for now, I felt how we moved together and was acutely conscious of how good we were, how good we looked. I would be dead tired later, but for now, my pulse beat frantically in my throat and everything was in motion.

"Yami," I said, just loud enough for him to hear. He never missed a beat as he looked at me, as aware as I was that the song was building up to a frenzied climax. "Suicide, then Heartbeat."

He gave me the slightest nod in reply and I back off to give us space. I got Riuko's attention and the drummer read my intentions when I mouthed the words to him. They were frequently used to end acts, after all—but having two people increased the effect, so I didn't often use those particular moves. Ordinarily I would have given the person back to the crowd by now, but it would be such a complete waste of Yami's abilities, not to mention an insult.

Four, three, two…I was looking at Yami out of the corner of my eye, feeling the anticipation build, and saw that he was perfectly in tune with me. Dancers needed no bond, or perhaps it was that they had their own special kind, made from the sultry beat of music and shared physical exertion. He read my body and knew the exact moment when I would move…and did it simultaneously with me.

I flung myself on my back in a sudden drop as the last beat throbbed through the room—as with most breakdancing moves, it looked painful and would have been, if I had not known what I was doing. The abrupt cessation of pounding music and me and Yami's 'suicide' drew some gasps, more from appreciation than surprise.

Dead silence in the room, but filled with living tension. Tonight's audience was good, very good. Not one of the hundreds of people present spoiled the moment.

Then, the familiar and captivating beat of the human heart as Yami and I imitated the rhythm with our bodies, rising up from the floor. _Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

As planned, the lights went out, eliciting some screams. It wasn't serious fright, just something to send a sudden spike of adrenaline through the blood while the person was still enthralled in the moment and with what they had seen and heard. We used it fairly regularly, but that didn't change the effect. Sudden loss of sight was a potent way to scare humans.

In the dimness, I went over to Yami to grab his hand so that we would be ready when the lights came back on again. Both of us were breathing hard, but we shared a triumphant, satisfied smile as Emerson gave thanks and a few words to the fans.

Before I could lose my nerve, I walked to where Kaiba was standing—the white trenchcoat really made him so easy to see—and tried to get him up on the platform so he could join Yami on the stage. Kaiba's eyes widened when he realized my intentions but he had instinctively extended his hand to me when I had reached for him, and now the crowd was catching on. The people around him practically launched him at me and he had no choice but to try to act dignified, standing besides me in his white trenchcoat.

"What are you doing?" he hissed as we made our way back to Yami. My movements hadn't gone unheeded, and when Emerson finished up, the attention came back to us. Usually I left the stage as soon as possible afterward, even going so far as to forgo coming out again to meet and greet the fans. But tonight the fans knew that they had gotten more of a show than usual, and they showed it with their deafeningly enthusiastic applause.

"What's his name, Amelda?" someone shouted out. I looked at Yami somewhat ruefully, not sure whether he would want me to answer. He had his own fans in the dueling world. I gave him the microphone and he breathed his name out to all the expectant faces. Some had already recognized him and were chanting his name; the information spread quickly. I suddenly realized that they thought that Yami had been a guest performer rather than someone randomly selected from the audience.

"Is Amelda your boyfriend?" More questions were shouted out. I took the mike from Yami and gave my best smile to the audience.

"I'm afraid that Yami's already taken," I said, ignoring Yami's quick, surprised look. My purposefully ambiguous words provoked more screamed questions.

Now that they knew Yami's identity, people found Kaiba easy to recognize as soon as the light shone on him. Of course, Kaiba was famous on several fronts: as a duelist, as probably the youngest CEO in Japan, and as the stuff of tabloid newspaper editors' dreams. For a moment Kaiba looked bemused by all the attention, then he put on his blank (or arrogant) expression. I secretly prodded him toward Yami. It wasn't like Kaiba didn't enjoy the spotlight, with all that he had pulled during Battle City. He just liked to be in control of when and how and where, and I hadn't given him the option.

I had meant to make it clear that Yami and Kaiba were an item, but instead I'd only confused the situation. A barrage of questions assaulted us, some that would have made my ears burn if I'd been paying attention. After all, the crowd had seen Yami and Kaiba together, then Yami and I dancing, and there was always an intimacy to dancing. I suppose it didn't take too much imagination to jump to the wrong conclusion.

So I leaned down into the mike and clarified. "He's with Seto Kaiba."

o o o

I was glad that I had come to the club on my motorcycle. After the show, I had faced down my bandmates' questions. I couldn't blame them for being curious, but it was hard all the same, since now all the joking about my "Mystery Lover" suddenly didn't seem like a joke. Emerson and Haruko were of the opinion that he was Kaiba. Riuko and Chris voted for Yami. Between my four bandmates, I barely got out of there. Pleading exhaustion and looking sufficiently fatigued as a result of my eventful day, I finally shut down their questions and headed home.

Mokuba met me at the door and I reflexively looked at the time. He should have been in bed, but he had been waiting up for us—except Kaiba hadn't returned yet. I assured him that I had seen his brother and told a little white lie about how everything was cool between us after the argument, then put him to bed. Mokuba gave me a big hug, yawning halfway through it, and promptly fell asleep almost before I tucked him in.

I sat on the edge of his bed for a few minutes afterward, mind active in a vague, unsettled sort of way. I should have slept, too, but something was bugging me. I just didn't want to think about it for fear of what I might discover. It came to me, though, as I was leaving Mokuba's room and heading down towards my own.

Kaiba wasn't back yet, despite how long I had been held up after the show by my friends, because he was with Yami.

Could heartbreak be exquisite? I didn't know, but the pain that accompanied that realization was fine, almost fine enough to savor. Maybe while I was doing all that tonight, some tiny part had still waited, had still imagined that Kaiba would deny it. That he would be pissed off by the fact that I had just handed his personal love life to the public on a silver platter. I had barely seen him after the show though.

As I had been going to the back, I had passed him. He had given me a tight smile, blue eyes mocking, or so it had seemed to me. I thought he was irritated, but if he had truly been angry, I doubt he would have held back from at least verbally assaulting me. I waited for him to say something, but Yami had appeared and they had left.

I changed into pajamas, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed. Usually I liked to keep the curtains open because I had a good view of the moon, and I liked how moonlight transformed everything to silvers and blues and soft greys. This time, I lay in darkness and ignored the hot tears that silently soaked into my pillow.

I woke before I realized that I had fallen asleep, and wondered what had woken me. I got up and opened my door, looking out into the hallway. Everything was silent. Restless now that I had been woken for no reason, I went to check on Mokuba, who was still sleeping safely.

When I came to the end of the hallway, I hesitated. I could check if Seto had returned. I _had _shut off the bond completely, and I had grown so used to the emotional feedback from him, like a radio that was never completely turned off, that I was worried. I would probably know if something physically attacked him, but what about more insidious methods? I wasn't sure I would notice anything if he had been drugged or poisoned.

Safety was still the first priority. I would never forgive myself if my emotional ties to Kaiba compromised my perspective enough to allow him to be killed. Partners in the FBI, CIA, whatever, weren't allowed to date because of the problems it would cause. In one sense, I was just an elite (and heavenly) bodyguard for him. I couldn't afford to be weak.

Leaning on the other side of the door, I heard movements inside. He was back, then. It was four in the morning, but from the sounds of it he hadn't slept yet. Still, I had fulfilled my duty. I was about to very quietly back away from the door when I heard Seto's voice, talking.

My first ridiculous reaction was to giggle. Call it an effect of sleep deprivation, but I thought it was funny as hell that the great Seto Kaiba talked to himself. In all the time I'd shared a house with him, I hadn't discovered this little embarrassing secret. For a moment I imagined using it to tease him over breakfast and probably getting stony glares over eggs and waffles.

As I my shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, a feather shook free. I grabbed for it as it lazily drifted down and missed, then heard another voice and froze.

"Do you want me to check on him, then?"

Yami.

I backed away so quickly that I tripped and fell with a slight thud. Thankfully one of the benefits of being wealthy was being able to afford the thickest, plushest carpet, and it muffled the sound.

"What was that?" Kaiba asked from inside, alarmed.

Apparently the carpet was still not thick enough.

With my heart suddenly pounding, I scrambled to my feet, hearing footsteps approach the other side of the door. I ran as silently as I could back into my room, locked the door, and then slid to the floor, leaning back against the door.

A minute or so later, the wood behind me shivered with three light knocks. I sat perfectly still and tried not to breathe. The knocks were not repeated and after more time passed, I heard the person move away.

I crawled back into bed and tried not to think. I turned onto my side, my usual position of comfort, and accidentally crushed my wing between my body and the mattress. Before, I had been able to easily curl up on my side, hugging a pillow. Suddenly I grew angry at the reminder that I was an angel. I beat my fists into the down pillow, biting my lips to keep myself from making any sounds, hardly aware that I was crying again.

The pillow, as expensive as everything else in this house, wasn't made to suffer so much damage. With a particularly hard yank and punch, the seams burst and little grey and white feathers exploded into the air. I beat at it anyway, taking out my rage on the feathered thing as if it had some relation to my angelic nature. When I stopped, the room was filled with falling feathers. I lay in bed and looked at them, and remembered.

I had reached to catch my own feather and missed. It was in all likelihood lying outside of Kaiba's door.

_So what if he knows that I was there_, I said fiercely to myself. But it was as if my mind cleared just as the air cleared of falling feathers. I knew why I felt betrayed: because I had risked my life today to save his, and thought that maybe he would understand how much he meant to me by it. Instead I felt cheated because I had saved Kaiba's life, and for what? So that he could walk into Yami's arms. So that they could kiss and cuddle in his bedroom, which was a room in the same house that I was in, and I just couldn't do it. I felt sick. No house, no matter how large, would be okay.

o o o

Yami wasn't there in the morning. I probably wouldn't have gone down to face Kaiba if not for Mokuba, but yesterday had scared the kid a lot, too, and I owed him for it. Both his real brother and his _de facto_ brother had almost died. In the past few days, he had been taken by a demon and roughed up, too.

Mokuba wasn't oblivious to the silence at the table, but he didn't bring up the subject. He had probably known that I had been lying last night about everything being fine, but he was much more mature than most kids his age and knew when to leave it alone. He was a good kid; he didn't deserve all the trouble that I'd brought to him, and if he was ever hurt for it... I swallowed down the dry, slightly burnt toast, and tried not to think of Miruko.

The feather was not mentioned. Before breakfast, while Kaiba had been cooking, I had slipped away to check the hallway. It had not been there, so he had probably seen it and picked it up. Then again, that wasn't indicative of anything. I could have lost the feather anytime, and it could have blown there from somewhere else.

"I need to talk to you," Kaiba said at the end of an excruciating half hour breakfast. I nodded; I had planned to bring it up myself, but it was easier that he had given me a way out.

We went into his study. It wasn't used very often because there were so many other rooms in the house that had all of the same capabilities. It felt too formal to sit in the leather chair but I was glad it was a room that I hadn't created many memories in.

"I think that Mokuba, you, and I should sleep in the same room at night for safety. The demon is still out there, and yesterday proved that even the security here can be compromised. We can't risk any more attacks. The next one might just finish one of us off." Kaiba said it all very logically, as if he had rehearsed the speech as well as all of the counterarguments to any objections I might bring up. He seemed about to continue, but I was shaking my head.

"It's not necessary," I told him. "I'm moving." Something like relief flashed through his eyes and I cringed inside.

"I've chosen one of the largest rooms here, so don't imagine that it'll be the three of us crammed into a room. There won't be any infringement on personal space," he said, as if it would draw a smile from me. It took me a minute to see that he had mistaken my words as acquiescence, hence the relief.

"I don't think you understand, Kaiba. I meant that I'm moving out of the house," I said quietly.

He stared at me. "What for?"

"Well, Yami will be over a lot more now," I said as casually as I could manage. "You guys will just need more space. It's fine; I've already talked to Raphael and Varon. We bought the house together anyway."

"More space, Amelda? You don't seriously think that you'll have more space in that two bedroom house than here." Kaiba was incredulous, and, as I'd expected, growing a little angry. "And Yami is just one person."

"Yeah, well, does it matter so much why I want to leave, Kaiba? I'm going."

"What about the compulsion? Neither of us can stand to be too far away from each other, and Raphael's house is half the city away. That was the whole reason why you moved in here in the first place." He sounded almost accusatory. It was funny. Kaiba had prepared all these arguments to convince me to move into the same bedroom with him and Mokuba. I had been doing the same thing last night, for the opposite purpose, to get farther away from him.

"We have a lot more control over the bond now than before. I think with the bond shut down, I won't feel the compulsion to be near you at all."

"Did you assume it was a one-sided thing, Amelda?" His question took me aback. I mean, of course it was the angel who had to be around to protect the mortal, right? At least, Kaiba had never breathed a word about being uncomfortable when I was away, until now.

"You want me to believe that you feel the need to be close to me?"

"Why do you think I let you move in here in the first place? I didn't care _that _much for your comfort, Amelda," he said. The thing with both of us was that we both had sharp tongues when we were angry, and neither of us was immune to the other's words. "Are you insane? Your obsessed fan is still out there, and so is the demon."

That was one thing that I had prepared for. "Exactly. I'll be able to take care of both more easily if I'm away from the two of you. You guys are the targets. Hang with the targets, and you can't hunt, you can only defend."

"So, what, one brush with death and you've lost the taste for protecting your mortal?" Kaiba's tone was sarcastic, and as usual, it only provoked me.

"Yeah, and I want to stay with you so much because you whisper sweet nothings into my ear, Kaiba. Don't worry, you won't miss me much, Kaiba. You've got Mokuba here, and you'll have Yami. I bet you won't even notice that I'm gone."

"Maybe so, then," Kaiba snapped. "Go ahead, go. You were supposed to be my guardian angel, but I guess it doesn't matter much to you."

"You seem to think that 'angel' is a synonym of 'slave.' I'm not yours, Kaiba."

It was only the truth.

I walked out.

o o o

A/N: The lyrics here were quoted from the song_ What Hurts the Most_; all other lyrics in the story are original. The chapter's been edited for typos but I'm sure you'll still find some since this was a monster chapter - sixteen pages. So yes, **please review**!


	10. Veritas

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N**: For those of you who don't know, _veritas _is Latin for "truth." I've heard from some of you guys that you really enjoy the chapter quotes, which is wonderful because I spend a lot of time trying to find ones that fit perfectly with each chapter's individual theme. It's nice to know that your readers pick up on things like that.

**Ten: Veritas  
**

_"An angel can illume the thought and mind of man by strengthening the power of vision, and by bringing within his reach some truth which the angel himself contemplates."  
— Thomas Aquinas_

I was distinctly aware that Varon had turned to stare at me staring into space. He had been watching TV from the other couch in the living room, but the commercials had come on, and he seemed to find me a more fascinating object to study anyway. I didn't usually mind, but after a few minutes of intense staring, on both my part and his, I decided that it would be quite nice if I could gouge his pretty, saucer-sized blue eyes out.

The commercials finally ended, from what I could hear of the sappy music that began to play once the drama's one true destined couple got together. This, of course, had taken thirty-something episodes and had occurred despite the evil "other" girl who had tried to steal the main guy and the nice "other" guy who was in love with the main girl and her best friend but _only_ a friend and blah blah blah…

I sighed; at least the drama would provide me relief from Varon's eyes. They were positively freaky when he stared at you like he wasn't actually seeing you, but instead seeing _through_ you. Besides, I couldn't even laugh at him for watching sappy Korean dramas like I used to; after I'd moved back into the house, I had discovered Varon's extreme loneliness. I didn't know whether he was still heartbroken over Mai or if there was some other girl, but it didn't seem right to tease him about love…especially in light of my own feelings on the matter.

To my surprise, I saw Varon casually reach for the remote and turn off the TV out of the corner of my eye. He did it all without taking his gaze off me, which I think provides excellent evidence that not all huge blue eyes are cute or pretty. They could definitely be just downright creepy.

"So, are you finally willing to chat about the bloke who's got you so messed up?"

I turned my head very, very slowly to meet his gaze, putting on my best completely empty expression, and inwardly smirked when Varon looked just as uncomfortable as I had felt only a few moments ago.

"Messed up?" I said, arching an eyebrow. "The last few weeks have been amazing. Our album was ranked third on the list of top ten bestsellers, the last shows have all been sold out to maximum capacity, and even Emerson's parents are starting to come around because of the success. I don't see anything 'messed up,' do you?"

"Yeah, it's been great watching you stare off into space for hours on end," Varon said, ignoring my glare. "Very entertaining. Do you realize that you're talking about yourself as if there's nothing besides Devastation?"

"Well, it _is_ the most important part of my life, Varon. I only happen to be with my bandmates every day for practice and shows," I said dryly.

"Exactly!You don't do anything else, ever. And shouldn't, you know, _that _whole deal be the most important part of your life, since that was why they brought you back?" The brunette gestured at my wings, which weren't visible and hadn't been for weeks. The only time they substantiated was in my sleep, because the pressure grew unbearable after a while and it was a bit difficult to concentrate enough to control them when I was unconscious.

"I don't see why it should be," I replied coolly.

"It freaking makes you miserable, Amelda. So then it makes me and Raphael depressed too. I don't see why you try so hard to pretend that you're not bound to the bloke and that you aren't suffering because you guys aren't close to each other."

"The 'bloke' has a name, you know."

"Which you hate to hear. Your face gets this funny scrunched up look like you're in pain," Varon retorted with absolutely no respect for my dignity. His tone gentled. "It's all because of him in the first place, isn't it?"

I'd tolerated the conversation thus far because Varon and I were always bickering, to the point that it was almost a habit, but it drove Raphael insane since he genuinely thought that we couldn't get along well. Varon always made me underestimate his perceptiveness, probably since he was the youngest of us and often acted like a child. When I didn't reply, he barged on, evidently ignoring the scowl on my face and the silver-hot glare that I was giving him.

"You know what? You're like—"

"Shut up, Varon. I don't want to hear about it," I interrupted. I stood, losing control of my wings for a brief moment when the emotions I had locked away surged through me. They flickered into existence and, faced with Varon's accusations, I didn't spare the time it took to concentrate. Instead, I turned towards the door.

"All right, go on and run then, Amelda! You've been doing it for two whole months, and Raph and I are sick of it. Do you realize how lousy you are at pretending to be happy? Did you seriously think that you could live with us and not have us notice how screwed up you are?"

"I'm _fine_, Varon," I said flatly over my shoulder to him, but his words told me how careful he and Raphael had been around me, treating me as if I were on the edge of a breakdown. The last several weeks had flown by as if I had had veils all around my world that separated me from reality, and I hadn't noticed how worried they were, probably because I was occupied with important things like staring off into space and sleeping in all day on the days the band had off.

In fact, Raphael had even accused me of having a sleeping disorder. I didn't tell him that I slept so much because it was the only time I couldn't feel the incessant yearning that was slowly driving me insane; I probably even felt it while asleep, but I just wasn't cognizant enough to respond to it. Raphael would have taken it as evidence for his sleeping disorder theory. An angelic sleeping disorder…I could only imagine how mystified the doctors would be.

"It's obvious that you're crazy about him. I don't know why, but it's still absolutely ridiculous that you lived with him for months and you didn't even let him _know_."

"Stop trying to analyze me," I snarled, meeting his eyes. He held the gaze until I looked away, and then got up, grabbing a magazine off the table and walking over to where I had stopped.

"Well, just to keep you updated, you should check this out," he said, shoving it at me. I took it out of reflex but refused to open it. "Since you pulled that stunt at the concert and practically threw away your chance, I thought you might be interested to see how it turned out."

"You just don't get it, Varon. I'm _happy_ for Kaiba and Yami," I said fiercely, almost choking on the names but continuing on as if all the justifications I had bottled up came pouring out. "I might be his guardian angel, but that doesn't mean that my whole life has to revolve around him, all right? I don't have to live with him, I don't have to constantly 'hear' his emotions through the damned bond, and I especially don't even want to think about him."

His face darkened with anger, as if he were taking it all personally. I continued to walk out of the room, trying to ignore his voice. "You know what, Amelda? You're like an angel in denial. You don't want to be an angel because it's all tangled up with everything else. In fact, you're in denial since you know you abandoned everything you ever loved because you were too afraid to go after what you wanted!"

The words stopped me even though I was already in the doorway. I clenched the doorknob, fighting the urge to turn around to confront him. It hurt. It really did. In all the weeks that had passed, I had ignored every reminder of my angelic nature, but it wasn't something that I could truly disregard, even with the bond as close to severed as I could make it. The only reason why I had been able to hold on for so long was that I knew I had the support of Varon and Raphael, no matter what. But now it felt like Varon was turning against me, and the worst part of it was that he didn't understand a thing. He thought he understood because of Mai, but it wasn't the same, and he didn't know how I felt at all. I breathed in and struggled to be calm.

"Hah hah, Varon. Abso-fucking-lutely _brilliant_," I said, imitating his accent and knowing that it would anger him. As a comeback, it was beyond lame, but I wasn't interested in finesse. I wanted to take my frustrations out on him since he had all but invited it. That was the way it worked between us, the thing that made us good friends in some kind of dysfunctional way that made Raphael worry too much. But Varon didn't rise to the bait this time.

"Just face the truth already, Amelda," he said, sounding sad and tired. "You walked out on him. How do you think he feels about _that_?"

I slammed the door behind me, but not fast enough to drown out his words.

o o o

"Did you fight with Varon again?" Raphael asked from the other room almost as soon as he returned from his day shift as a bodyguard for the famous and fabulously wealthy. I didn't know how he knew, because he could only see me through the doorway, and Varon wasn't even in the house. He had gone out with a group of his biker friends, so I had returned to the living room. Having nothing better to do and deciding that so much staring into space was unhealthy, I'd actually begun to watch one of the Korean dramas that he had on DVD. Needless to say, they didn't cheer me up.

In fact, I thought that they might have been purposefully made to be depressing. But in a screwed up way, the fake angst actually made me feel better. I mean, the girl died in the end from leukemia and the guy committed suicide, but you get a bunch of happy flashbacks with sentimental piano music and the whole idea is that they had the fairy-tale deep, unconditional, endless love. I think that most people are romantics at heart, so it appeals to them. Besides, if Romeo and Juliet had lived happily ever after, they wouldn't have become famous.

I realized that Raphael seemed to actually be waiting for an answer to the question after a long moment and I shrugged. Instead of taking that as a sign that I wanted to be left alone, he came further into the room and sat next to be on the couch. After being confronted by Varon, I didn't exactly want a repeat with Raphael, but couldn't think of a way out of it.

"You haven't heard, have you?" he asked, picking up the magazine that Varon had given me from the table. I'd put it back there without opening it. I hadn't opened a magazine in weeks, not even any of Varon's bike subscriptions, although all three of us were inordinately fond of our motorcycles and I'd missed being up to date with the newest and coolest models when I'd moved out of the house. Raphael flipped through the pages and I deliberately averted my eyes, aware that it was full of both Asian and American celebrity gossip and nearly tabloid-worthy shots from paparazzi.

"Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?" I shot back at last. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

"They broke up a couple days ago," he said carelessly. Something clenched inside of me so hard that I found it difficult to breath. But the moment passed and I fixed a sarcastic smile on my face.

"Who, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie? I never knew you followed that stuff, Raph. How droll."

He tossed the open magazine onto my lap, where I couldn't avoid the bold headlines or the pixilated but vividly colored picture. Some lucky fan who had been at the performance that night had taken a photograph of Seto and Yami, probably moments after I had made my announcement to the crowd. It was cut into a heart shape, with their pictures on either side of a jagged crack.

Despite myself, I quickly scanned the brief article, which mentioned nothing but a few vague rumors about the causes of the breakup. Most of it seemed to be speculation, but towards the bottom I saw my name, and my eyes continued to read until I had reached the end of the article, all without taking in a single word.

"Amelda?" Raphael was leaning closer to me when I just wanted to be alone. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, but Varon and I are worried about you, and you keep us at a distance." He paused. "Are you all right? You're pale."

I should have reassured him because I could hear the guilt in his voice, but instead I found the place where my name had first been mentioned and read it again.

… _coincided with the complete disappearance of Amelda, lead singer of the popular band **Devastation**, from public appearances with either of the two. Amelda is thought to have been living with Seto Kaiba at his heavily guarded mansion earlier in the year and was the one who made the relationship public knowledge after a performance in the club **Paradise** two months ago. Fans of both **Devastation **and of the Duel Monsters game speculate on the possibility of a troubled love triangle, fueled by lucky witnesses and pictures from a hot glimpse of Amelda and Yami's dancing. Insiders maintain that the breakup was mutual and amiable, although the ex-couple have not been seen together since. _

"I've got to go," I blurted out, jumping up from the couch and heedless of Raphael's attempts to get me to wait. "I'm going to be late for practice."

"Amelda, you don't have practice on Monday—" he began.

"Riuko said that we're moving Tuesday night's practice to Monday because he and his brother have a family dinner they can't miss," I lied without even thinking about it. Raphael followed me to the other room and stood with his arms crossed in an impressively intimidating stance as I threw on a jacket and grabbed my keys.

"Are you sure? It's not even six yet and I'm sure you haven't had dinner. Why don't you call Emerson—"

I cut him off again. "Yeah, I'll see you later, Raph. Don't worry, I'll grab something to eat on the way." Even the thought of food made me feel sick.

"Look, I thought it would be good for you to know, but if you're going to take it badly, at least talk to me," Raphael said. I flashed him a smile, touched that he was trying so hard, but stepped outside even as he saw me to the door.

"It's no big deal," I said, and left.

I really had nowhere to go. The orphanage would be serving dinner and things were hectic enough with so many children without a guest around. I could call up one of my bandmates, but I felt reluctant to do so; they'd noticed that I'd been acting oddly, but after I had made it clear that I would tolerate no questions about my so-called Mystery Lover, they'd backed down. Besides, to tell one was to tell all, because we didn't believe in keeping secrets from one another.

Instead, I drove around through the mazelike narrow alleys and streets, staying out for hours. I knew that it was in all likelihood a stupid and dangerous thing to be roaming around even when it grew dark and extremely cold, but the cold made everything seem sharper and helped clear my head. I wasn't even wearing my helmet. I breathed in the air deeply and felt the tiny stings of water on my bare cheeks—a very fine drizzle had started, almost little more than a mist, but the speed and motion of the motorcycle made the barely visible droplets prickle against my face.

Varon was completely right. Not everything was fine and happy in my world, and pretending that it was only made it worse. I was an emotional wreck, though a cleverly disguised and functioning one, but at least I could limit it to myself and try not to drag both of them into my personal mess. Some things simply couldn't be fixed, and what I couldn't fix, I tended to try to ignore.

I ended up in front of the Kaiba mansion without realizing it, although it seemed logically like it wasn't something you could do subconsciously. I mean, you had to make the right turns at the right roads and everything, but all of that seemed to be a blur in my memory, and I only knew that I ended up sitting on my motorcycle outside the front black gate and wondering how I'd gotten there. Maybe it was just habit from the months that I had lived there, like how dogs could instinctively find their way home even when they had been taken hundreds of miles away.

I could somewhat see the spot where my attacker had shot Kaiba, and even where I'd used my angelic powers in desperation to save his life. I wondered if he was inside—it was late, but Kaiba always stayed late at work—and whether Mokuba was there. It was another thing that I had forced myself not to think about. I missed Mokuba so much that sometimes I started to imagine him among the kids at the orphanage when I went to visit and volunteer. I'd left more than this house, and more than just one person. I only took some consolation in the thought that kids were resilient, especially kids like Mokuba who were so full of life and joy, and though he might have missed me for a while, he wouldn't have been too affected by it. I hoped that Kaiba spent some time with his brother; he already took so little time off work and he probably would have used it to be with Yami.

That was why I forced myself not to think of Mokuba. Things inevitably circled back to one point, memories would flash forward until that one moment in the club, after the show. Flying was all mixed up with the remembrance of the one kiss that we had shared, layered with the incredible trust he had put in me when he had jumped off the cliff and expected me to catch him. Dancing was remembering Yami's incredible talent and our perfect synchronization onstage, and it was wondering if Kaiba watched Yami dance now, as he had once watched me dance.

Nothing was safe to think about. Maybe that was why I spent so much time staring into space. Most people did it because they were thinking about something rather than focusing on their vision. I did it to keep my mind blank and peaceful. It was just a way of coping, like my supposed sleeping disorder.

I looked up at the outline of the mansion. It seemed dark and isolated in the light rain, although there was a faint glow from one of the windows. Mokuba's game room probably, I thought, and moved a little closer to the gate. Bright lights suddenly flickered on with a click, shining down so brightly on me from the gateposts that I was half blinded.

Two security guards manifested out of nowhere, their sudden appearance probably aided by the fact that they were dressed completely in black and had simply stepped into the circle of light. To their credit, they hadn't pulled a gun on me yet, but approached and eventually came close enough for me to recognize one of them. He knew me too, although I must have looked interesting, with my hair almost blood red in the light and plastered to my head from the rain. For that matter of fact, I was wet through and through and shivering just a little despite my naturally above-human body temperature.

"Hey, Ishida," I called out to him, smiling a little at him. He had always treated me nicely, although Kaiba had made it clear that the guards were not there to befriend, talking about a necessary separation for objectivity, or something similar. Regardless, Ishida wasn't as emotionless and unresponsive as some of the other guards. I held up my empty gloved hands a little to show to his partner that I wasn't a threat.

"Amelda?" He looked uneasy to see me, although it was probably because Kaiba had probably gone overboard on the security after Mokuba had been attacked. I knew that he had fired some people, anyway. "Did you want to see Mr. Kaiba?"

I felt the smile slide off my face. I hadn't been prepared for his question, though it had been a logical guess. The guard next to him, probably someone new, snickered and then shut up when Ishida gave him a dark look. My face burned despite the cool rain.

"No, not at all," I said. "I was just…" I had been about to say that I was just passing through, but the Kaiba mansion was a little out of way for privacy, and it wasn't like you could plausibly happen to be around in the neighborhood. "Anyway, I've got to go. It was good to see you though. Take care."

"You too, Amelda. You shouldn't be driving around by yourself at night with your attacker still out there," Ishida said seriously. "I can't leave my post, but I'm sure Mr. Kaiba would spare a guard for an escort."

"No, that's all right," I said hastily. "I'll be fine, Ishida. See you later."

The new guard didn't bother waiting for me to be out of earshot before he turned to Ishida to comment on me. I heard every word although he had kept his voice low, and Ishida's reply was drowned out when I started the engine. _So, that was the one before Yami? Man, he sure knows how to pick them. _I revved the engine more than I needed to. If Ishida had something to add to it, I didn't want to hear it.

It wasn't until I had arrived back home and slipped quietly in, relieved not to find Raphael waiting up for me, that I remembered. I'd forgotten to ask Ishida not to include my visit in the report that all the guards had to submit. There wasn't anything I could do now though.

_How do you think_ he _feels…_

o o o

It turned out that escaping to the outdoors became a regular habit of mine in addition to the space staring and the sleeping. Suddenly the house that I'd loved so much seemed too confining and small for the three of us, although I had always felt that it was cozy before. Sharing a room with Varon grew unbearable, since he wavered between sympathy and scorn, both of which I found to be impossible to take.

One day I'd walked into the room to see that he'd cut out the broken heart photograph from the magazine and taped it to his wall, which of course meant that I had a view of it and he didn't, since his bed was beneath it. I'd walked out again and had stayed out all night, lingering at _Paradise_ even after the performance. Raphael had definitely noticed that time, and he'd been furious when I'd come home in the morning since he'd thought that I'd been attacked again, and had spent hours calling the emergency rooms of all the local hospitals.

Varon didn't say anything, but the picture was gone and we went back to normal without talking about it until I almost believed that the whole incident had been a figment of my imagination. I didn't hold anything against him. He had simply been trying to snap me out of whatever was wrong with me. It wasn't his fault that all his efforts to fix me weren't fixing anything.

As a matter of fact, I became fixated on heights. I remembered staring down the edge of the cliff up in the mountains and how much it had terrified me at first, but I also recalled how alive I felt in the moment. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, mixed with adrenaline, as I plummeted uncontrollably out of the sky and saved myself at the last moment. I wanted to feel it all again, so I went to buildings and climbed up onto the roofs and sat on the edge, staring down. I spent hours just thinking like that and it became my favorite haunt.

Raphael thought I was suicidal. It took hours and hours for me to convince him that I was most definitely not. If he hadn't been so freaked out and serious about it, I might have even found it to be funny. In the end, he managed to convince me that I needed to be discreet about it. First of all, Varon pointed out that if people saw me from below they would probably call in the cops, ambulances, and nice doctors in white lab coats from mental institutions. Yeah, they ganged up on me for the whole thing, one of the side effects of having a group of three friends. Anyway, when I'd snorted at the picture that Varon had painted, Raphael had reminded me that I had more at stake than my own reputation.

In other words, the media would go nuts if they could get a picture of _Devastation_'s lead singer perched on the edge of a roof. Although, given the example of _Nirvana_—the American group Emerson had followed obsessively since he and Kurt, after all, shared the same surname—death wasn't necessarily bad PR. It wasn't something you wanted to risk, though.

Finally one day I dyed my hair temporarily black again, aware that for the next few days my stubborn hair would become streaky with black and red. In addition to that, I added classic black shades and formal clothes. All in all, I looked like a slightly punkish version of some rich young executive, which I hoped wouldn't look too out of place where I was planning to go. After all, if they were used to Kaiba and his trench coats, I should blend right in with the rest of his minions.

That's right. I was planning to pay a little visit to Kaiba Corp, which happened to be the second highest skyscraper in Domino City. There was actually one building that was higher but I had checked out the security and there were always guards around, probably due to the fact that it was a bank. I wanted to be as far away from the ground as I could get, even if I couldn't risk flying around in daylight in the city. I did realize that it would be utterly humiliating if I were to be caught wandering around the building by Kaiba's security, but I was fairly certain that I wouldn't be.

I picked a Sunday, which should have ensured that no people were around, since after a week of observation, I found out that Kaiba had crazy employees who worked Saturdays. I wondered if they'd chosen to put in the overtime or whether Kaiba was really that sadistic of an employer. In any case, Sunday morning dawned with beautiful weather and I slipped out of the house at five in the morning, nearly choking on my suppressed laughter when Varon thrashed in his sleep and muttered something about hair conditioner and Dartz.

As I had expected, I encountered no serious problems as I went. In fact, it was almost too easy to step into the elevator, take it up to the top floor, and then to access the roof through a special stairway intended for emergencies. I checked the exit alarm, having learned how to disable it beforehand, but found to my surprise that it wasn't even on. Shaking my head over the building's faulty security, I was still shamelessly glad to take advantage of it.

The morning sun shone gently on the small area of the roof that could be accessed, illuminating a bare expanse. The most shocking thing about it was that despite the extreme height, it had no guard rails, probably due to the logic that no one in their right mind would ever come up here, unless it was a repairman.

If there was ever a more gorgeous sunrise, I hadn't seen it yet. Throughout the ages, humans have always associated height with power, and understandably so. There was something about being so high up that the world was spread around you at your feet, and everything was just a vast expanse of sky, everywhere. The wind currents were strong up here as well, making me thankful for my abnormally hot angelic blood, but it added to the impression of flying. Nothing could compare, of course, but when I took off the suit jacket and let my wings substantiate, it felt like I was free.

Every feather tingled as the wind blew, producing incredibly pleasurable sensations that could not be described in words. It was a little like the bliss of taking a hot shower after a tiring day, only far more wonderful. For a brief moment I remembered the feel of Seto's hands on my wings, so careful and gentle, and then how his touch was feather-light when his hand swept down the entire length of my spine. I shivered, and not from cold. It was ridiculous how I could want him so much, that just the thought of him could affect me so much. I stood and took deep breaths of the cold air until I almost felt lightheaded, as if I were overdosing on the pure, fresh oxygen.

As I explored, I realized that the roof was actually divided into four quadrants so that if you stood in one, you couldn't see the others because there were walls. In the center of what I had taken to be the top level of the building, there must have been a small room of some sort, so that each two quadrants made up an L shape, and all four formed a sort of frame around the center. I explored the quadrant adjacent to the one that contained the entrance to the stairway, discovering with joy that it afforded a completely different view of the city. I couldn't imagine why more people didn't regularly come up here, since it was spectacular, but then I remembered that I had had a perfectly normal aversion to extreme heights as a human. Knowing that you wouldn't die if you fell definitely gave you a different perspective on things.

I spent an hour or two there, judging by the increasing brightness of the sun, before I remembered that I still had two quadrants, or two views, to go. I saved the one that was the front of the Kaiba Corp building for last, deciding to be cautious since it would be odd for anyone to look up and see a human-sized figure on the roof. I slowly walked across the short part of the L and peered around the corner to look over the side. The streets seemed fairly deserted except for a few cars, so I turned around the corner and walked a little bit onto the long part of the L, eyes looking over the edge more than where I was going.

When I finally looked at where I was headed, more out of instinct than interest, I froze in surprise at the sight before me.

o o o

For about five seconds, I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Some part of my mind was insistently chanting something along the lines of _I told you so _combined with _why are you so damned stupid, Amelda?_ Okay, so I'm on the roof of a building called Kaiba Corp, right? I know that Seto Kaiba has his office in Kaiba Corp. I also know that Seto Kaiba is a workaholic who, improbably but not impossibly, might just choose to spend a lovely Sunday morning cooped up inside of the building named after him. So is it really, _really_ that surprising to see Kaiba standing in front of me?

Well…_yes_. Because of all the people to be on the roof, what on earth was _Seto Kaiba _doing standing there, close to the edge, his eyes so intent on the ground far below that I was sure he hadn't noticed me, although I was standing not so far to his right. I gaped soundlessly, and the first ridiculous explanation that came to my mind was that he must have lost something over the edge, because his expression was searching.

Of course, if he had dropped something, I doubt Kaiba would have wasted time looking over the edge. Even if he did, I was sure he wouldn't do so acting as if, by the power of his gaze, he could fish his object back up to him. Not many objects, animate or inanimate, would survive a drop like that. Rumor has it that if someone dropped a quarter off of the Empire State Building in America, the quarter could pass entirely through a person on the ground, killing them instantly. Kaiba Corp wasn't nearly as impressive, but the logic still applied, just to a lesser degree. Varon had always joked about luring this math guy that he despised to the building, and then dropping a calculus textbook on him. We could only speculate that it would create a human pancake.

The thought of that humorous and slightly sadistic instant death suddenly reminded me of Raphael's reaction when he had first seen me sitting and dangling my legs over the edge of a roof. If I had frozen in surprise at seeing Kaiba, it was nothing compared to the effect on me now. Everything went cold, as if ice had instantly and inexplicably formed around my spine. Believe it or not, there's a specific word just for people who peer out over the edges of tall buildings as if they're contemplating something on the ground.

Seto Kaiba…_suicidal_? It was so uncharacteristic that I immediately rejected it, trying to think of anything else that could reconcile what I saw before me. I almost laughed out loud, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I remembered how Dartz had picked a girl for Doom long before he had arranged for Raph, me, and Varon to join him. Her name had been Satsu, and she had been at least six or seven years older than the rest of us. She'd been a very talented duelist, but she had also been cruel and unemotional. My younger self had admired her a little, feared her a lot, and thought that she was undefeatable. Her sudden suicide had been a complete surprise to all of us.

Could I be sure that the idea of Seto driven to that kind of desperation was really as preposterous as I wanted it to seem? I frantically searched through my memory, but I couldn't think of much that would have affected him enough for him to contemplate something like ending his own life. Maybe something like the total obliteration of his company, or the death of his brother. Or…maybe, the breakup with Yami? The tabloids had called it mutual and amiable, but Kaiba didn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, after all. He was intensely private about almost all his feelings, with the rare exception of his obvious love for Mokuba. Kaiba barely had relationships with other people in either the platonic or romantic sense; he wasn't the type to take things casually.

Not entirely willingly, I moved forward as if drawn to him through some mysterious magnetic power. If he had been looking, he would have seen me out of the corner of his eye. But Kaiba's eyes were focused completely on the ground and he had never looked more cold or remote than he did in that moment. Even as I watched, it was as if a statue came to life. Seto stepped even closer to the edge, and my eyes widened. I felt an overwhelming panic bubble in my chest and then pop.

Whether because of proximity or the wild emotions I was experiencing, the bond that had been closed off and dormant for weeks suddenly came to life, the sensations so familiar and welcome that it was almost painful, like frostbitten fingers being warmed to life. Kaiba spun around at the exact moment, eyes immediately piercing me from where I stood. There was no question of whether he recognized me or not; the bond rendered all disguises absurd.

You cannot gaze into the soul of another person and not _know _who they are. I could have dyed my hair purple with green highlights, had plastic surgery, put in red contacts, and he would have instantly known it was me anyway. From only a distance of about four feet away, I met his endlessly blue gaze and wondered if it was the look of a killer, a killer intent on making himself his victim. I couldn't believe it.

"Don't do it," I said helplessly, the wind stealing my words away. I had no idea what to do, what to say.

"What are you doing here?" His voice came out in a low growl that almost made me flinch, but it spurred me into action. Before he could do anything rash, I walked up to him and grabbed his arm, my hands clenching hard as if by sheer force I could tie him to me and keep him from death.

He barely seemed to notice, although it had to have hurt. "I suppose it's a good thing you are here," he continued calmly, as if half insane. This side of Kaiba, a Kaiba I had never seen, scared me. "You would be a witness."

"Don't," I said forcefully, choking on the single word. He made no move to walk away and we maintained the tableaux, his clothed arm almost cool beneath my too-hot angel hand. I reached out with my left hand to touch his, and the skin-on-skin contact felt odd. In some ways Seto's hands were the most inaccessible part of him, and I couldn't remember ever touching them before. If I had, I would have been wearing gloves anyway.

"Did you know, I angered Gozaburo so badly that he had an heart attack and fell out of the window to his death?"

I sucked in a breath, feeling as if the world had gone insane. I was not having this conversation with Kaiba. I was dreaming, that was it – all this obsession about flight, combined with the constant ache of the bond, and my mind had probably decided to play these psychological games while I was asleep.

"It was right after I'd taken over Kaiba Corp. I was terrified at first, of course, but I was also glad. So fiercely glad that he was dead, because he deserved it. You, of all people, should know exactly how I felt."

"Don't talk about death," I pleaded, trying to think of something to distract him. "You know, you still owe me a pledge from our draw."

He clearly had no idea what I was talking about, and didn't care. "Some people deserve to die for their crimes," he said softly, ignoring me and talking to me at the same time. "Or maybe even worse. Do you believe in the death penalty, Amelda?"

I shook my head mutely, at a loss. Was this some kind of guilt? Did Kaiba feel as if he did something…was this about Yami, or what was it about? I was his angel; I was supposed to guard him from danger. I just didn't see how I could guard him from himself when I didn't even know what was going on. I was angry with him, but most of all, I was angry with myself. I'd walked away and shut him out, and while I'd been gone, _something _had been happening to make Kaiba like this. Why hadn't the bond given me warning signals, or was it simply okay if it was Kaiba who decided to end his own life? Why hadn't I known?

I had pulled Kaiba so that my back was to the edge, but I realized that he was still looking down intently, past me. I turned to glance over the edge, trying to decipher what he found so interesting, but all I saw were the few cars passing through the intersection. With far more confidence than I felt, I spoke to him in a deliberately provocative tone. "I've been thinking about it for some time and I think I want to claim that pledge, Kaiba. Now."

His eyes flickered back to my face and almost made me sigh with relief when I saw that he was actually listening, as if I had broken him out of whatever world he had been lost in. The only problem was, I still had no idea what to say. I'd forgotten about the pledge, as I'm sure he did, and what I really wanted, I couldn't even tell him.

"So?" he said. "What is it?"

"Don't do this," I said again, forcing the words past my tight throat. "Promise that you won't do anything so stupid. I don't know what exactly made you like this, but it can't be worth it, Seto."

"Not worth it?" He looked so angry that I almost backed away out of instinct. Not only that, I could feel his anger, subtly overlaying my emotions. I could feel the intensity of it, see it in his blazing blue eyes, and in the way that he stepped closer to me. I'd loosened my grip on his arm and he pulled away now only to put them on my shoulders. "He killed you once and almost killed you again, and you don't think you're worth it?"

I was more confused than ever. Were we even talking about the same thing, or was I really that clueless about whatever was on Kaiba's mind? Seeing the bewilderment on my face seemed to drive Kaiba right over the edge of exasperation. He shook me once, then let go and paced around in a small, furious circle before whirling around to face me again.

"I broke up with Yami," he said. My heart skipped a beat and then steadied. It was probably a good sign that he was willing to talk about it. This was better than whatever it was before. I could understand this; I could work with it.

"Seto," I said gently and carefully, "Is that why—"

"I broke up with Yami because of _you_," he clarified.

"W-what?" I stammered, heart suddenly pounding so furiously that it seemed as if all I could hear was the blood rushing through my head. His eyes were completely unreadable, and I couldn't begin to sort out my own mixed emotions, let alone whatever I could feel from him.

"It wasn't bad, it didn't take that long for both of us to know that it wouldn't work, and he's more of a friend now than he ever was before. We talked a lot about you, actually," he said, words so casual but expression so intent. "He helped me with this."

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. When he didn't find whatever he was searching for in my eyes, he shook his head with an angry, frustrated movement. The wind blew his bangs into his eyes and I focused on those silky brown strands silently, unable to meet his gaze directly. The way they veiled his eyes reminded me of our meeting on the night of my death.

He was looking over the edge again at the people passing below. Down below, I saw a little girl accompanied with her mother hurrying through the street. The girl was dressed as an angel, the Western conception of them, anyway. Pink dress, halo made of some glittery hoop, and tiny, fuzzy white wings. It was probably for a birthday part or something. Funny, I always thought the wings that people make for costumes were ugly. It was so obvious that they were fake, as stupid as attaching plastic wings to a dog and expecting it to look natural. They were a bad imitation of man's greatest dream and people did not move as if they were aware of them, or could feel their presence. They couldn't, of course, so I guess I can't blame them. As I watched, they disappeared from view.

"How could you think that you're not worth it? Don't you understand, Amelda?"

"No, I don't," I said, his tone finally drawing a response from me. "You don't tell me anything! I…"

Later I still could not remember who it was that moved toward whom, or if both of us were drawn together by some irresistible force. All I knew in that moment was his body close to mine, my arms coming up to hold him automatically as his hand touched the back of my neck and his lips met mine.

It was uncertain at first but I opened my mouth and kissed him, really kissed him, when he would have drawn away. It was as if all the months of denial, all the love and lust were just too much to take. I wanted him; he was there, so why not? In the very back of my mind I knew there were reasons why not, but I didn't care in the moment. I demanded the kiss of him, and it turned savage, as if we were both trying to prove that the other was more affected by this insane temptation, this incredible thing that was between us.

We finally wrenched apart and my tongue slipped out to lick my lower lip, tasting a coppery trace of blood. We stood, breathing hard and looking at each other without saying anything, until the tension was almost unbearable. Part of me was so terrified that it was almost just another flavor of anger, the other part wanted to reach out to touch him again, to make him lose his careful control, just to prove that I could. I took a step closer to do just that and his hand came up against my chest, anger in his eyes.

"And do you think that this is because of the bond, too?" he said harshly. I was surprised at the bitterness I could hear in his voice. It was either written on my face or he felt it through the bond, but it made him continue. "Isn't this all just another ploy for revenge? I know you haven't forgiven me, and the best revenge is that which involves love."

I stared at him, for the life of me unable to figure out what to say. I had to have heard him wrong, because Kaiba could not have possibly said _love_—

He glared at me for another moment, perfect mouth compressing into a thin line of unhappiness, and then turned abruptly and walked away, the strong wind making his trenchcoat flare behind him.

"Forgive you for what, Seto?" He wasn't suicidal because of Yami, but maybe it was some kind of guilt. I didn't understand, and I couldn't think, not with the taste of him still on my lips, the pressure of his hand on the neck not yet crossed over to the status of memory. Varon was right, I'd been running from him and from my own feelings for all this time, but the moment that I stood my ground, he was leaving. My words made him halt in his steps, and I followed him to where he was, dangerously near the edge.

"Your death, Amelda," he all but snarled. "You died because of my employee, and you almost died again when you took my wound for yourself through your angelic powers."

I sucked in a breath and opened my mouth to deny it, but no sound ever came out and the moment stretched on and on, eternal and endless, as I tried to speak. It lay between us, those words, and for the first time I could see the vulnerability in his face, the light illuminating his cheekbones beautifully so that his pale skin almost seemed to glow, the soft set of his mouth.

Did I blame him? I did and I didn't. It was true that at first I'd hated how my life had utterly changed just when it was going well for the first time since Miruko's death. I'd hated the fact that I was bound to him, expected to be by his side all the rest of my existence, to guard and serve him. I had even resented his part, however minimal it was, in my death that night, and even as I'd been shot, I had wondered if he was somehow responsible for it.

Most of all I'd hated him because he affected me so strongly and deeply, while he felt nothing at all. I had resented every moment that I had spent agonizing over his relationship to me, all the hours of doubt that I'd experienced because he never looked my way, because he had all but pretended that I didn't exist.

But he was looking at me now, looking at me with those with suffering eyes with nothing of ice or reserve in them, and I knew I had put that look in them. I did mean something to him, and even though I no longer blamed him for my death, it didn't matter, because he still blamed himself. This was the moment I was supposed to tell him that it was all right. This was the moment to take Varon and Raphael's words to heart, to tell him how I felt, to tell him that it had never been just a side effect of the bond. It was the perfect opportunity to save him from himself, to guard him from suicide just as I was supposed to protect him from other dangers. It was the time to confess, but I remained silent, knowing that if I told him I didn't blame him, then I would have to tell him everything, and I couldn't face his rejection if it came. I had been willing to give up my life for his, but could I do the same with my heart, to assuage him of guilt?

Gradually, I realized that my wings were trembling slightly with the tension I felt and I couldn't seem to still them. I thought of vanishing them but was too distraught to concentrate enough. Not for the first time I wished they weren't there, betraying me with every faint flutter, the light shining down on that pure white almost blinding.

The sunlight also made something shine from his cheek and I stared at it for a moment before I even recognize it for it was, because it should never have been there. No tears should have ever graced that countenance, so often seen in arrogance and ruthless determination, until it had become legendary for its unemotional strength. I reached out to brush it away, barely believing it until I felt the wetness on my fingertips.

"I forgave you a long time ago." The words slipped out quietly. His skin was cool to the touch and I realized that he was shivering from the cold even as he stood there, looking down as I studied him. Another tear made a trail down his cheek and his hand came up to smear them angrily away, and abruptly, the world shattered. I raised my wings and arched them forward, cocooning us in white, wrapping around me, around him, warming us. They insulated against more than the wind—they dimmed sound, made the bright, harsh rooftop somehow safer, as if they shielded us against the world, blocked out all the cruelty and pain. But pain came from the inside, too.

"I want more than desire," I said to him, hands cupping his face and forcing him to look at me as my wings cradled us both. More tears, although Seto never made a sound, and I felt his trembling subside. He touched me hesitantly as if afraid that I would reject it. One arm encircled my waist while the other was higher, touching the sensitive place between my shoulder blades, the origin of my wings, where heaven and earth came together.

I had a choice—to accept what I could barely believe was true, to trust him not to play with my feelings, to trust that this was not a game…or I could turn away, for once and for all. I was an angel, he was my mortal. We were bound more closely than most people would ever experience, yet if it magnified our feelings for each other, it also made the risk all the greater for a hurt that was impossible to imagine.

"I want you, Seto." I touched my lips to his as I whispered the words, then to the side of his throat, where his pulse fluttered, mirroring the fast, unsteady beat of my own. "I want you."

"Amelda," he breathed, just that, and I closed my eyes. I rested my head against his shoulder, cheek pressing hard against the sturdy material of his trenchcoat, as pressure of his arm around my waist lifted. Moments later I felt his fingers thread through my hair, the action somehow more intimate than because it was gentle. "I've waited so long to have you in my arms again. Ever since I carried you out of that airplane, and since you took me flying that day…when we kissed."

"I was afraid," I admitted. Such a simple word, but it cost me so much, and I was afraid that Seto would despise it, because it was a weakness. He moved his hand from the juncture of my wings and my back to higher, tracing the feathered arch of my wings reverently, making me shiver with pleasure.

He watched my reaction, eyes darkening, and his eyelashes swept down to shutter them from the world. Until then, the bond between us had been open, but not completely. We had always shielded from each other, usually more rather than less, but he let me in now in a gesture of trust that took my breath away. "So was I. I didn't want to lose you."

I doubt that Seto Kaiba had ever said those words out loud for anyone to hear before, but he wasn't Seto Kaiba to me, he was the human that I loved. "A bond is for-ever," I recited from memory, "and cannot be destroyed, save by death." I thought fleetingly of how much I had hated to hear the words the first time Asriel had told them to me, and of how different it was now.

A woman's piercing scream reached us even at the top of the building and I instantly drew back my wings, breaking apart from Kaiba as we looked over the edge. My eyes and enhanced vision had barely located the source of that chilling sound of terror before I heard the louder squeal of careening tires and the sound of metal smashing into metal. In the relatively empty intersection below us, three cars had crashed into each other, apparently because one had swerved from its lane into another one. The screams continued although the driver from one car was already visible. I couldn't figure out why, since from my vantage point it looked as if the cars had sustained quite a bit of damage, but people were not hurt, or at least not hurt badly enough to need help getting out of the car.

Then I spotted the crumpled body, limbs splayed out like a broken doll, and the woman on her knees next to it, the one who had screamed. He must have ran right into the middle of the street, because he was lying far from the curb. There was no reason for me to immediately assume that he had died on the scene, but I felt with certainty that it was the case. I turned to Seto to ask him if we should help in some way, by calling in ambulance or something.

The expression on his face stopped me. Just moments ago he had been in my arms but now he had retreated into a glacial mask, the change so abrupt and extreme that I almost exclaimed at it. What were even more disconcerting were the feelings that I still got from him, as a result of the entirely open bond between us. The foreign feeling of satisfaction, even a hard, ruthless kind of ease, came over me, and I could only look at him, trying to reconcile the utter difference in what I was feeling and what I was seeing.

His eyes were intent on the people far below, although he probably couldn't see everything as clearly as I had. It was then that the sense of wrongness magnified, because I realized what I had just witnessed: a death. I had almost forgotten my original fear that Seto was going to commit suicide in the heady rush of acceptance and mutual desire, but now the thought flickered across my mind, before I could stop it. _What if the death he was talking about wasn't his own at all, but rather the death of the man below?_

o o o

A/N: I told you it was a long chapter, didn't I? I'm sorry to end it on a cliffhanger, but that's the way it worked out when I edited, so you guys will understand what's happening more clearly in the next chapter. If you think about it, you can probably guess accurately, anyway—I dropped a lot of hints.

**Please review**!


	11. Angel to Demon

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: Please see the previous ten chapters. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: I use first name, last name. Yes, it's the opposite in Asian countries, but since I use Seto Kaiba I thought it would be good to be consistent. I do tend to lapse into 'Kaiba' mode, although this story kind of makes a point out of the last vs. first name idea.

Dedication: To nitedancer99, for your inspiring enthusiasm for this story. This chapter is for you especially!

**  
Eleven: Angel to Demon**

"_If we ever wish to know angels for what they truly are... perhaps it is we who must first learn to fly."__  
— Anonymous_

"Who is it?" I barely recognized my own voice; it sounded so strained, even though I'd spoken in a low voice. I had no doubt that he was aware of my conflicted feelings, and although just moments before I had rejoiced at the entirely open bond between us, now it only made things worse. Instinctively, I began to shut him out. My own emotions were already too overwhelming for me; I didn't need the added complexities of his.

Kaiba didn't reply and I grasped his arm insistently, hardly able to sort out all of the things that had happened in the space of a few hours, after more than two months of lifeless day to day existence. For a moment, I even pushed aside the impossible, exhilarating knowledge of requited love.

_Who did you kill? _I wanted so badly to ask, but I was afraid he wouldn't even deny it. "Who is it down there, Seto?"

"His name is Seigo Tajima."

It was not the reply that, until that point, I had still hoped for. I wanted Kaiba to deny all premeditation of this, instead of calmly implicating himself in another man's death. My grip tightened until it was finally enough to draw his gaze away from the events happening far below, and to me. What I saw in his darkened blue eyes only further disquieted me, because it looked far too much like satisfaction.

This time, I was the one to look away, and down. It was difficult seeing the broken figure and even more so, given my enhanced eyesight. Something about him even seemed familiar, and I turned away from the edge, sickened. "Why were you up here, Seto? Were you really talking about killing yourself?"

"Killing myself?" Kaiba turned sharply to look at me, saw that I was serious, and laughed harshly. "You thought I was suicidal?"

I'd known that it was either incredibly ridiculous or incredibly right, and it didn't take a genius to figure out which it was when Kaiba spoke that way. "I don't know _what _to think, Seto, so why don't you tell me what's going on?"

He stared at me for a long moment, as if judging me. "Do you want to hear everything? All right, I'll tell you, although I have to admit that I didn't expect you to be here at all, Amelda."

"I didn't expect you here either," I said, and he nodded in cynical acknowledgment. The expression on his face oddly made me want to cry.

"After you left, it was unbearable. It didn't take that long for Yami to notice and instead of being angry, he was sympathetic." Kaiba's words came fast and edged, as if he were having difficulty controlling himself. Now that I knew how Kaiba felt, I ached at the bitterness still in his tone. I had always thought that he would hurt me; I had never realized that I had the power to hurt him. I had never known. We had shut each other out too often.

"Anyway, around the same time, the men I hired to research the events of your death reported back to me that they had the identity of your killer." Kaiba smiled grimly.

"Is it…?" I didn't even finish the question before I knew the answer. It explained a lot, but not enough. "The man who shot me. Seigo Tajima." It was strange, putting a name on the obsessed fan that had killed me.

"He ensured his own death," Kaiba said coolly.

I was abruptly brought back to my main concern – not the stranger below, no matter how much he had affected my life, but, as always, just Seto. I told myself that I hadn't fallen in love with a killer, but part of me still had to ask. A little voice was whispering in my heart, wondering if I could accept the answer, whatever it was. "Did you pay the driver to hit him?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he answered a little sharply. It was the only sign so far that he was the least bit unnerved or emotional about what we had just witnessed, but somehow it wasn't reassuring at all. "You saw how he ran into the street, and he almost hurt other people while he was at it. He was trying to get into Kaiba Corp."

It reminded me that he was connected not only just to me, but to Seto, too. Those words brought it full circle, right back to us. "Was he still an employee?"

My question unmistakably sparked new anger in Seto. "Not anymore. He was in the ten percent that I fired when I was trying to find your killer the first time around. Apparently that drove his unreasonable hatred of me even further when he found out that you were living with me, and that was why he tried to kill me."

"But why did he attack _me_ in the first place? It doesn't make sense. I mean, I can't sing if I'm dead."

"I don't think he meant for you to die, Amelda. He just wanted you submissive to him." The matter of fact way Seto stated it was enough to make me feel cold. His tone was merciless when he continued. "I can't do anything about the demon, but Seigo Taijima is—was—only human. And human I can take care of."

"Take care of," I echoed a little numbly. "You killed him."

"He killed himself," Kaiba corrected. "That's how Yami is involved with this. He helped me after I tracked the man down and challenged him to a game. When he lost, Yami broke his mind by trapping it in the Shadow Realm, where his guilt is endlessly reflected back to his consciousness." Kaiba looked at me with blue eyes containing a hint of glacial frost in them; I didn't know what to say, but he almost seemed to want my approval.

"In other words, you made him insane." I wasn't entirely accusing, but I didn't sound neutral, either.

"He was crazy already," was Seto's terse retort. "Did you think that I would let him go free for doing what he did? He _killed _you, Amelda. If that doesn't mean anything, he tried to kill me too, and came damn close to it. I put all my considerable resources to use; I went through every record myself. It might have taken a while, but it was inevitable that I would find him, that he would pay for what he did to you."

I wished the words didn't ring so true, or sound so convincing. I had always known there was a ruthless side to Kaiba, right? If it had been Mokuba, I wouldn't have even blinked to hear that he'd avenged his own. I didn't doubt that that man was a murderer or that he deserved to die, but to know that Seto had done it…what did it mean? I was still struggling to even accept that he had feelings for me. This wasn't the proof that I would have wanted.

"That doesn't make it right, Seto," I said softly, at last. I stepped back a little, putting some distance between us to help me clear my head. His eyes glittered a cold, deadly blue, and I would have given much to be able to spare him such an expression.

"It's the most natural kind of justice, Amelda," he pressed, too intensely. It was easy to see how I might have been mistaken about his supposed suicidal thoughts. I hadn't paid a lot of attention before, with so many other things to worry about, but now I noticed that his face looked almost too sharp, the skin pale. But most especially, there were mauve shadows beneath his eyes, and even the brightly burning blue color looked more like it resulted from a fever.

I suddenly wondered how many sleepless nights Kaiba had had, while I had slept too much. We'd both gone to extremes, but opposing ones. I ached for him as I took in his appearance and recognized the signs of his neglect of his own body. But even if some things felt right, even if I wanted nothing more than to hold him tight to soothe away some of what I had done to him and what he had done to me, it was all marred by this death.

Clearly, Seto thought that it was over. He'd explained as much as he was willing to. Even so, I was left still feeling a sense of misplaced anger, as if I blamed him even as a more rational side of me told me that there was no one to really blame.

"Let me ask you something," he said, drawing my attention back to him. "Is it really because you think he didn't deserve this, or that there's something wrong with his death? Or is it that some part of you, maybe just some small part, is glad that I killed him?"

There was just enough truth in his words that it stung, but at the same time I denied it, in all my mixed confusion and anger. "Don't pretend that you did it _all_ for me, Kaiba. I know how arrogant you are and how strongly you protect your own self-interests. It must have been a huge blow to your ego that he was from Kaiba Corp, wasn't it?"

He ignored my words, as cutting as they were. "Stop fooling yourself, Amelda. You wouldn't have stopped it even if you knew about it, because you're like me." He paused, meeting my furious gaze steadily. "You wouldn't have done anything differently. You're just angry because I went behind your back."

My hands clenched at his superior, confident tone. I almost wanted to hit him, almost tensed my muscles to do exactly that, but I didn't do it. He knew he had provoked me; he would have expected me to do something like that.

Instead, I deliberately did something different, something cruel.

I leaned into him, closing the small distance between us, and surprised, he let me. "What are you doing?"

I kissed him, and it wasn't for pleasure, not for me. Seto's arms came around me, one hand resting on the small of my back, and I let myself follow wherever he led. He was surprised at first, but he never resisted. I submitted to whatever he wanted, but at the same time I never let him take control. I just kissed him, practically devoured him, and he responded. It was intimate and heated, but when I'd had enough, I stepped back.

There was shock in his eyes, that I had been able to cut it off so abruptly. I wasn't as affected as he had thought, and as the tense moments slipped by, he realized that in this game, I had the upper hand. His pale skin was slightly flushed, making him look more alive, but when he opened his mouth to speak I cut him off coldly. "How do you like that?"

His face changed, losing the slightly lost look. I saw anger and perhaps betrayal, everything that I felt. It was all right; it was what I wanted. I saw that he knew it was deliberate, and I wondered silently in the back of my mind if it was better or worse for it, that I could willfully hurt him.

"Yami was better."

I ignored the sudden twisting in my chest and let derisive laughter fall from my lips. "Don't fool yourself, Kaiba. You loved it. You love it even now, don't you? You know it meant nothing, but it was you _and me_, and you wouldn't have done anything differently."

I threw all my hurt back in his face, but somehow there was no pleasure in it, only a bone deep sense of weariness. Kaiba was a mirror before me, and I was afraid to look for fear of what I might see, who I might be. I forced him in similar ways to face himself: his pride, his need for control, his dependence on people other than himself. All these things which had all made him isolate himself for protection.

But now there were no boundaries between us. No ceiling, but no floor, either, for what we could do to each other. I hugged myself with arms and wings, cold inside with fears and doubts. Maybe the very thing that drove us together would drive us apart. Maybe our love was just too complicated to survive. After all, everything seemed to contrive to destroy it before it had even really existed.

o o o

Everything ached in my body. Some aches were those that could easily be explained, but some were harder to ignore, and harder to ease. I hadn't moved in a few hours, simply sitting still and leaning against the wall. I looked out into the pure blue of the sky and yet I couldn't enjoy it in the very least.

Kaiba had left me on the roof with no further words, and I knew he was downstairs taking care of whatever business there was, perhaps even talking to the police about his former employee. It was probably better that we had separated; we both needed some time alone to think, to douse the slow-burning anger within us so that we wouldn't accidentally start a fire that would only destroy everything.

I felt curiously dead and wished for Varon. Raphael would be sympathetic and understanding, and those were things I could not take right now. Varon, on the other hand, would draw the entire story out of me, probably call me an idiot, and proceed to punch me or something else equally drastic. I wanted that kind of clean simplicity.

What was it about Kaiba that was so exhausting? Maybe it was the whole idea of being an angel—being the responsible, mature, strong one. Raphael had always been that person for Varon and me, so I had never understood how difficult it was to be the one to step forward. I tried to get a rein on my emotions, letting them pass through me naturally but not holding onto it, not feeding it until it became poison. I told myself that this changed nothing.

It took me a total of four hours before I made up my mind to find Seto. I didn't know what I would say to him or if he would even see me, but all I knew was that I wasn't willing to give up. Not after finally knowing the truth about his feelings, and revealing my own secrets. I wouldn't let this go, not without a fight. I had always been stubborn.

The increased endurance of my no longer entirely mortal body took away physical fatigue and hunger, but it couldn't shield me from the relentless rays of the noonday sun. My fair skin was beginning to burn as the shadow I sat in gradually disappeared, further incentive for me to leave the rooftop.

I kept my head lowered as I went down the emergency stairway, and then patiently waited for the elevator. When it opened, I saw him, at the exact same moment that he realized that I was in front of him.

For much too long, we stared at each other, surprise gradually becoming something else. Each searching for some expression or sign from the other. Some kind of hope, I suppose, but when the silence stretched on and nothing was forthcoming, the elevator doors started to automatically close.

I hurriedly stepped through, turned around so I was standing next to Seto, and watched as he pressed the button for the first floor. I saw that he had his things with him and guessed that he was going home. We made the trip all the way down in utter silence. I kept hoping that the elevator would stop on one of the other floors and that more people would come in, but at the same time that would awkward in its own way. My apology was caught in my throat like a note that I couldn't quite sing. We were standing close even though the elevator was large; for one insane moment I wondered what he would do if I simply turned and put my arms around him.

He followed me out of the elevator when we finally arrived; I hadn't expected that. We headed for the doors, a couple of either foolishly brave or highly tolerated people calling out greetings to him that he ignored, as was probably his custom. A few curious glances were directed toward me since we were both walking so purposefully together, but no one recognized me in my disguise.

A couple more steps and we would either have to really go our separate ways or stop pretending that we only happened to be headed in the same direction. I hesitated and slowed, looking at the cold figure beside me out of the corner of my eye, but before I could decide anything, strong fingers gripped my elbow.

"Seto, what I did back there," I began softly, but my voice trailed off when he shook his head.

"Don't speak."

I tried to read his expression, and when that didn't work, was tempted to try to feel him through our bond. But I was afraid of opening a Pandora's Box, and it would be unfair to rely on the bond to solve our problems. The fact that I was angel to his mortal only complicated things, not simplified them. I let him guide me to his car, still trying to figure out this unexpected turn of events.

"I'm taking you home." It was the only thing he said to me, but those simple words made me feel immensely better and made my vision blur. He had met me halfway, both literally and metaphorically. Neither of us was alone in this—it was odd, we had each other even when we hurt each other most. I walked close to him, acutely aware of the way we moved, the way he let go and instead grabbed my hand.

_Home_. Even after more than a month away, I didn't think of the house that I shared with Raphael and Varon as home, or at least it wasn't the first instinctive thing that I called to mind when I heard the word. Home wasn't a place, not for me. Home was where Seto Kaiba was. I shivered as I examined the thought, wondering if it was merely a sign that I was becoming less and less human. Wasn't that what happened—that eventually I would cease entirely to think of myself as human, and become only the angel that I was supposed to be? The angel who belonged, in every way, to Seto Kaiba.

There was soft piano music playing in the car, exactly fitting my mood and probably Seto's as well. It was my human heart that ached, and my human body that desired him. After such a long absence, it was difficult to even sit by him without the urge to increase our contact. I bit my lip and listened to the melancholy notes that sparkled like diamonds over the nearly silent hum of the car engine.

The Kaiba mansion hadn't changed since I was there, except that it seemed even more lonely and large. There was too much empty space and it was too orderly, like a perfect façade. When we got out of the car, Seto finally stopped and turned to me.

"You left us once, Amelda. I don't care what you do to me, but Mokuba doesn't deserve it. He sees you as another brother, you know. He truly loves you, the same way he loves life—with his entire heart, with all his energy and devotion. Most intelligent children lose something in their knowledge, some kind of innocence, and begin to view the world in a more cynical light. I won't let you be the one who does that to him. I won't let you into his heart, if you're only going to leave it again and again."

_The way you do to me_. I knew what he meant, and I doubted that he had ever spoken so plainly from his heart before to anyone. He wasn't the kind of person who found it easy to express or even show his love, not even to Mokuba himself, but he had done so again and again to me today. No, not just to me, but _for_ me, because I needed to hear these things. I stared at him for a long moment, a little stricken, and then pushed past him to enter the house.

Mokuba indeed was waiting for his brother, but his eyes widened when he saw me. It didn't matter that I had left without a goodbye. He stepped toward me and flung his arms around me, even though he was at an age when children stopped giving hugs so readily, and tightened his grasp. With Seto's words fresh in my mind and feeling as if my heart was particularly fragile in that moment, I hesitantly hugged him back.

"Did you argue again?" he whispered in my ear, surprising me. I realized that Seto had probably come in behind me; I looked sideways and saw that he watching us with unfathomable eyes. Mokuba took it all in with a wisdom far beyond his years, and when I didn't reply, not knowing what to say, he shook his head. "Never mind, Amelda. I'm glad you came back."

Since there was nothing else to do, I followed him to my old room. I'd left almost everything behind; most of it was Kaiba's anyway, since I hadn't brought much from my pre-angelic days. I'd even left some half-finished compositions behind, and when my bandmates had asked me about it, I'd lied and said that I had accidentally lost them. None of it was touched.

"_I _knew you would come back," Mokuba said as I stood in the middle of the room, overwhelmed. The emphasis didn't escape me. Without asking for permission, he took a seat on my bed, looking at me with wide slate blue eyes that were both innocent and too intelligent. "But why did you?"

I didn't know what to say. I told him that I had met Seto in Kaiba Corp. and we had talked, but stopped there, knowing it was utterly inadequate for an explanation. To my surprise, Mokuba filled in the rest for me, including what had happened to Seigo Tajima.

"You knew?" I asked rhetorically when he finished, walking toward him until I stood right before him. His hands were clasped in his lap.

He nodded unhesitatingly. "Amelda, there wasn't any evidence to link him to either your death or Seto's attempted murder. They never found your body, and we never reported the shooting incident because of what happened. Sometimes there isn't another way for justice."

"That doesn't make it completely right." I could barely believe that I was having this conversation with him. Mokuba was more like his brother than anyone guessed, or perhaps I just hadn't known them as well as I thought I had.

"But it's not wrong, either," was Mokuba's thoughtful reply. "You should know about these things, Amelda. You were in a war." His sad smile reminded me too much of Miruko as I'd last seen him, when I had just died. I looked away, fighting the sudden prickling in my eyes.

"You know, he's never loved anyone other than me," Mokuba continued calmly. "I wasn't sure what to make of it, at first. Sometimes I thought he couldn't love at all, that he would never open himself up that way. Losing our parents was hard, but the years we spent with Gozaburo Kaiba—it really changed him. So you _have_ to understand, Amelda. There's only you. Seto would do anything to protect you. The same way, I think, you would do anything to protect him."

My throat was too tight for me to speak. "Mokuba," I whispered. He gave a little cough, as if embarrassed, and then jumped off the bed, standing before me. It was as if he'd changed back into a kid again, with the kind of bright cheerfulness and willful determination that he had always had.

"Say it to him, not to me," he said with a smile. It was meant to be encouraging, I think, but was more mischievous than he had probably intended. I briefly hugged him to me hard before I let him leave, wondering if this was what Seto might have been like as a child, if there had been a little less darkness in his past.

They were so very extraordinary, the Kaiba brothers.

I was left with too many thoughts and answerless questions. Could I really pretend that Seto's actions had changed my feelings for him? Could I pretend that part of me didn't agree that what he'd done was justice, not murder?

o o o

I didn't join them for dinner, although Mokuba came and knocked at my door to ask if I wanted to. When I declined, he seemed to expect it, although he gave me a look that was half exasperated and half chiding.

"You guys are making me eat alone," he said, almost whining, and drawing a slight smile from me. It wasn't until he was gone that I realized what he meant. So, Seto was also refusing to come out of his rooms.

I wasn't hungry though it was late and I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. Realizing that Raphael would worry when I didn't return, I called him and Varon. Both took the news that I was moving out again with a kind of relief and a 'what took you so long?' attitude. I forced cheer into my voice and didn't mention Seigo Tajima, the name that I would never be able to forget. I didn't know what to make of it, but Varon told me that if I ever wanted to, I could always share his bedroom again. As heartfelt as his promise was, I remembered Seto's words about leaving again and again, and I told Varon that I wouldn't be coming back. If I didn't know better, I would have said he expected that, too.

With nothing better to do, I began to sort through the music I had left behind when I'd moved back in with Raphael and Varon. There were several songs with the scrawled notes smudged, the lyrics incomplete. _Learning to Fly_. _Dreamer's Nocturne. True Resonance_. I'd been thinking of doing a solo side album called Heart to Heart, and Emerson had been enthusiastic about it, even when I told him that I was planning on donating at least half of all the proceeds to charity—to a special one I had found that had been trying to raise money for children with heart problems.

Flipping through the loose sheets of music, I vaguely wondered if I had really left it like this. Some of it I didn't really recall composing, or at least not finishing. Had I really been gone so long, or was my memory just that bad?

There was a room on the second floor with a boudoir grand piano and nothing else. I had gone there often before, finding it to be a comforting place—the carpet was a creamy white, the room flooded with light from the several windows to one side, and the Yamaha piano was a beautiful natural wood color, as opposed to the usual black.

I went there now, thinking about one of the songs I had been thinking about writing that was solely piano and vocals. Most of the album was more piano based than guitar, anyway—that was why I'd wanted to do it as a solo project. It wasn't the same kind of sound from Devastation, but I was still drawn to it anyhow.

Then again, I'd abandoned most of my ambitions to compose when I'd moved back. If I were going to buy a piano, I wouldn't settle for an upright, and it wasn't like there was much room. Based on the sales from our album, monetary constraints were likely a thing of the past, but the band already had a piano, too. Mostly, the real reason I gave up was that the song was written about Seto, and I hadn't wanted to be reminded of him.

The room was pretty well soundproofed, but as I drew close, I was surprised to hear muffled music already coming from the piano. I pressed myself against the door, suddenly sure who was on the other side because as far as I remembered, Mokuba wasn't in the habit of playing sad songs on the piano. Not that I had ever heard Seto play something like this. He usually stuck to his favorite Mozart or Rachmaninoff, or at most he played Liszt and Chopin.

It took only a few heartbeats before I realized that the instant sense of familiarity I got wasn't because the music was by some long-dead composer that I had also played before. The sheet music slipped from my inadvertently loosened grasp and I bent down hurriedly to pick the papers up. The potential album title song _Heart to Heart_ was last.

The song was one that I had actually finished composing, although I had struggled with the lyrics so long that I had almost given up. I had first written it before Seto and I had gone to mountain for our day of flying, and since then, the relationship between us had kept changing until I hadn't known exactly what I wanted to express. It was a sad piece, there was no denying that. I'd wanted to tell him how I felt, and I'd thought that the only way that day would ever come was if I did it through a song. Something he probably wouldn't even notice.

But the song was playing now. _He _was playing the song. I looked down at the oh-so-familiar sheet music and then at the small, neatly printed words beneath. No, not my handwriting, but Seto's. There was also a light pencil drawing of angel wings that I could never have drawn in my life, every feather detailed even though it was clearly only a sketch.

I looked through the other pieces again and finally realized why I had been bothered when I'd briefly glanced through them before. I'd written out lyrics for most of them, but I hadn't finished the songs, aside from hastily jotting down a basic melody. But all of these songs that I held were finished, the notes drawn in with dark pencil. I looked down at them, the five lines with their various notes swimming in my vision, but I could already hear how they would sound, in my mind…in my heart.

I could also hear it from the other room, where Seto sat playing from memory the songs we had composed together. There were my melodies and the harmonies he had added, music pouring from the piano that had come first from my heart and had ended in his.

My first instinct was to rush into the room, to see him. Something held me back though; I stopped with my hand still on the doorknob, afraid that my presence would destroy the moment. Seto wasn't expecting me and I wasn't sure if he would have wanted me to hear this. I didn't want to intrude on a private moment and what could I say, anyway?

He knew I loved him, but in real life those words weren't the end all. This was neither the fairy tale where love conquered all, nor the drama where the lovers died. Where would we go from here? My hands were further smearing the penciled notes that I was still trying to accept as his work. Seto had never seemed to be that interested in my music and although I knew he did some improvisation on the piano sometimes, it wasn't the same as these actual compositions.

In the end, I slipped away silently, the music still playing in my mind long after I'd left. Back in my own room, I flung myself on my bed and stared up at the white ceiling, on my back although I was above the covers. I thought about the sky and how empty and yet endless, how it had looked from the top of Kaiba Corp. I couldn't sleep with so many thoughts in my mind.

Seigo Tajima had come between us yet again, even in his death. I couldn't even hate him for it, although I wasn't sure what it meant. I should have felt guilty over the way he had died, but I couldn't. Seto was right about one thing. Tajima had killed me, something that I probably never could have forgiven anyway, but more importantly, he had nearly killed Seto. If I were honest to myself, I would admit that I wasn't entirely outraged at the way he had died.

I only wished that Seto would show…something, I guess. Some little bit of remorse? I wasn't even sure…it wasn't for Tajima's sake that I was angry. It wasn't that I thought he shouldn't have died. I just didn't want Seto to have been the one to have to do it. In some ways I just wanted to protect him. Sometimes it was as simple as that.

Finally around two in the morning I drowsed off, still sprawled all over the bed. I must have been sleeping on and off for only about two hours because around four I was too restless to stay in bed. I wanted to see Seto.

Checking in first on Mokuba, who was sleeping soundly, I continued down the hall to Seto's room. I knocked very softly on his bedroom door but he didn't answer, so I debated whether to walk in. I wanted to know that he was sleeping though. I couldn't help but feel that I had hurt him badly this morning for something that wasn't entirely his fault. I kept on thinking of the kiss I'd given him, the way I'd played with his feelings. I never knew that I had a cruel streak in me, but love surprises you in so many ways.

The door was unlocked. I entered to see him sleeping in front of his computer, looking utterly exhausted in his chair. It had been a long day. When awake, he hid away his emotions, but when he was asleep I could sense him too, with his guards down and the bond between us stronger. Soft light from the computer screen illuminated his pale skin beautifully.

There was music softly playing; he must have recorded the piano himself, because the songs were from the Heart to Heart album. The screensaver had falling feathers, almost ethereally artistic, and reminded me of angels. I wasn't sure if it was really evocative of that, or if it was just the situation. I bit my lip when I saw it, wondering why he had chosen it.

I moved the mouse so I could stop the music and found that he had changed his background. I remembered complaining months before that the plain corporate-looking blue wallpaper was boring, especially since it had the typical KC logo. Kaiba practically lived and breathed that company. While his dedication was remarkable, occasionally it was aggravating.

Now the screen was replaced with a Devastation wallpaper, the picture from when we had taken our solo shots during the promotion of our album. I looked at my own face, the confident look I had in my dark grey eyes, the half-parted lips. Dark red hair contrasted vividly with pale skin and I had posed with my hand pulling down the neck of the sleeveless shirt I had on, exposing my collarbone. If one knew what to look for, the nearly indiscernible edges of my wings—like the thinnest of invisible lines in the air—could be seen.

I stared at the picture as if I had never seen it before. It was a while before I finally stopped the music and remembered to go get some blankets for Seto. Shaking out the light but warm blanket, the air I stirred up made something white drift to the floor from where it had been on the desk. After I covered Seto, I bent to pick it up. It was a short, downy white feather and probably one of mine, unless Seto was in the habit of collecting them from birds.

I cupped it in the palm of my hand, listening to Seto's deep, even breathing and faced with all the little mementos he had kept. I had tried to erase every memory of him, every trace. It seemed like he had tried to keep it all. The screensaver came on again and its dim light was gentle to Seto's slumbering form.

Since there was nothing else I could do, I returned to my room. It was even more impossible to sleep after I had seen Seto. I thought about letting Seigo Tajima come between us yet again, even in his death. I thought about Seto being in this same house, sleeping so close and yet far away. I thought intensely of falling white feathers, even though my thoughts were blank, directionless. I couldn't stand this.

I didn't know what made me do it, but I went back--to him, of course. I wished that I could move him from his chair to the more comfortable bed, but knew it was better not to wake him. Instead, I crawled into his bed, into what should have been forbidden territory. I was too tired to care or to wonder why I did it, when I had always been careful not to invade his space. I had rarely even been in his bedroom. The fine sheets were cool at first and then warmed to my too-hot temperature as I breathed in his scent.

I fell asleep in moments.

o o o

_Breathe. Can't. Can't breathe! _

Iron bands were around my throat, the pain intense even as I woke suddenly, choking. The light in the room was dim and I couldn't see for a moment, but my hands instinctively moved up to my throat as I writhed, futilely trying to draw in air.

Something dark and large crouched to my side, half bent over me.

My hands encountered fur and I instinctively dug in with my nails, wrenching hard on the thing gripping so tightly that it was almost crushing my windpipe. I was far stronger as an angel than any human, but I barely succeeded in loosening the clasp on my neck.

The brief rush of air into my oxygen-deprived lungs was foul smelling but gloriously welcome. It cut off abruptly as the grip tightened again. My wings had exploded from my back and now strained against the bed, caught beneath my weight.

_DEMON. It's a demon. The same demon that tried to choke Mokuba. _

"Angel," it hissed in a garbled voice, looking almost as surprised as I felt. I stared up into a face that I had seen once before as I abandoned my attempts to loosen his hands and instead tried to claw out his gleaming eyes.

The demon's expression twisted with rage even as I drew in my legs and pushed off against the bed, desperately flinging myself to the left. My vision was already blooming with black and golden spots; I was dizzy but oddly clearheaded rather than panicked, as if this was exactly what I was meant to do. The sudden move broke his grasp again momentarily as his left hand fell away.

There was a very weak spot in the throat—at least on humans. I prayed it was the same for half-human, half-bull demons as I jabbed my fingers forward with all my strength behind it, right at the hollow spot at the base of his throat.

Sharp pain pierced through my neck even as he let go and I sucked in just enough air to scream, or try to. I'd forgotten that he had claws like an eagle's, except he seemed clumsy at using them, preferring brute force. Lucky for me. He had been trying to choke me into submission, apparently, not kill me outright. I yanked his remaining hand away from my neck but knew that I was too weak.

His flailing fist caught me full on the cheek and turned my head to the side. Despite that, the demon had fallen back but I wasn't sure how long I could hold him off. Before I could do anything other than sit up in the bed, the furred muscular body jerked uncontrollably and dropped onto its back, half on the bed and half besides it. I saw Kaiba standing before me, holding something that looked like a handgun.

But no shot had been fired, and there was also no blood. I was dazed and in pain, but I was sure of that. I realized that Kaiba had just Tasered the demon even as he stepped forward to give the prone form a vicious kick in the side. There was no response, and he bent forward, the sharp click of metal telling me that he'd handcuffed the demon.

He'd Tasered the demon. Kaiba had a Taser. I fought the insane urge to laugh, leaning back against the wall behind the bed and closing my eyes as the room spun a little. I felt the bed dip with new weight just before warm hands gripped my shoulders.

"Amelda, are you all right?" The voice was fraught with worry and made me open my eyes even though I didn't feel much better. Seto stared at me and then exclaimed when I didn't speak, probably realizing that I couldn't. He pulled me gently to him and wrapped his arms tight around me, concern and love and a flood of other emotions pouring through the opened bond to me. It struck me as ironic that the demon triggered the connection between us.

At the moment, though, I was willing to get whatever I could. I rested my cheek against his shoulder, trying to tell him without words that I was fine by conveying reassurance through our bond. His hand came up to my neck and I inadvertently let out a low cry as it touched the raw wound on the side where the demon's claws had pierced deeply.

Seto let out a string of curses as he felt the warm blood still trickling down my neck and soaking my shirt. His eyes suddenly widened and he paled, letting me go and standing.

"Mokuba—I need to see Mokuba—"

"Go!" I croaked out, but he was already out the door at a run.

I did my best to resist closing my eyes again, keeping them on the demon instead. I had no idea how much longer it would be out, or what it would do if it woke. For that matter, I had no idea what I could do to stop it from either escaping or finishing the job it had started and killing me. I remembered that I should keep the pain from Seto, or else he'd feel its phantom echoes, and made an effort to control our metaphysical connection.

All of this was still only just jittery thoughts skating across my mind, things I tried to focus on so I wouldn't wonder about what Seto was finding in Mokuba's room. Like whether Mokuba was hurt…or worse. If he was dead because the demon had succeeded this time.

Before my imagination had too much time, Seto reappeared at the door with Mokuba. A wave of relief swept over me when I saw them together. Mokuba exclaimed and ran up to me, hardly sparing a glance for the demon. I must have looked pretty bad to him. Well, there was all the blood, and my cheek ached, no doubt because the demon had almost shattered the bone with his fist.

Whoever set up angels and demons to fight each other definitely didn't make it fair. If Seto hadn't been there with his handy Taser—the thought still made me want to laugh—I almost certainly would have died. You would have thought that a perfectly human but insane fan would be enough to deal with, without the supernatural creature from hell.

Seto was liberally cleansing my wounds with some kind of clear liquid. I expected it to hurt more than it already did, but it didn't, so I smiled at Mokuba, who was hovering worriedly next to his brother.

"You need stitches," Seto told me. I shook my head no and then regretted it when the gashes on my neck throbbed with pain, even though the movement was slight.

"I heal fast, remember?" I whispered, barely able to even hear myself. "Just bandage it."

Not bothering to argue, he did as I asked. As he worked, I tried to sort out all that had happened so we could figure out what to do with the unconscious demon lying in the middle of Seto's bedroom. "What should we do with it, Seto?"

"It disappeared the last time we handcuffed it and left it alone." Seto paused, eyes darkening to an angry blue. "It could have killed you, but it didn't, so it was either too stupid to do so or didn't want you dead. We don't know why it keeps coming after us, unless it's just instinctively going after an angel."

"I think it thought that it was attacking Seto," Mokuba interrupted. "You're in Seto's bedroom and in his bed, and the light is dim."

At his too innocent tone, I found that despite everything I could definitely still blush. There was an awkward silence for about a minute while Seto focused on fixing the last of the bandage to my neck with surgical tape. I wasn't lucky enough to have anything else to do. Finally, Seto cleared his throat.

"What _were _you doing here?" he asked.

Another long pause while I looked imploringly at Mokuba. I was injured, but it didn't spare me the interrogation. Life just wasn't fair. "Well…uh…"

At that moment, the demon chose to make a whuffling noise, twitching its arm. I looked at it, unable to believe my source of salvation. "Maybe we should take care of it before it disappears again," I said hoarsely.

"Well, all three of us are here, so we should be able to seal it away," Seto said, still looking at me curiously. I fought the urge to look away. "Three types of blood, right? Angel, human, and demon."

"Yami talked about that when he was here, too," Mokuba chimed in. "It was called 'the triumviratus' or something. We were trying to find the exact details of the ritual."

"You guys were pretty busy together," I said flatly before I could stop myself. Trying to cover up for my lapse, I added quickly, "So did you find the information?"

"Not quite," Seto said. I had the feeling he was hiding a smirk, probably at the small surge of jealousy that I couldn't help but feel at the thought of all the hours he must have spent with Yami. I couldn't tell whether it was from regular intuition or really from our bond, though. "You can look it over while I clarify some things with Yami over the phone. Mokuba, keep an eye on the demon, all right?"

He left the bedside while I stood up experimentally, relieved to find that aside from the injuries to my neck and cheek, I was fine. I sat down again when Mokuba insisted that he spread some kind of gel over my cheekbone, which according to him was rapidly bruising.

Seto had taken a stack of computer printouts from his desk drawers and now handed to me. While he picked up the phone to dial Yami's number, I began to read. I'd always been skeptical of the magical and mystical, but by the time I was done with the first two pages, I was beyond merely skeptical.

"Seto—_seriously_, you think this is going to help us?" Even the reduced volume of my voice conveyed my sarcasm. "Look at this. 'Three Drops of Blood from the Guardian Angel, Demon Slayer, and Human, drawn by the fang of a midnight-black werewolf.' Did I miss something, or is 'werewolf' supposed to be in there?"

"…yeah, okay," Seto said into the phone from across the room, ignoring me. Mokuba stifled his laughter when I glared at him, but helpfully pointed to the ingredients list on the next page.

"Sun Water: Seal a glass or crystal container of pure water outside just at dawn, in a place where the sun will shine on it all day. At sunset, bottle and cork the water. This removes evil and can be used to anoint yourself for purification," I read. I stared at the very real demon only a few feet away and at the spells and rituals I held in my hand.

"Anyone else get the feeling that we're really screwed?" I asked to no one in particular.

Mokuba nodded in agreement.

o o o

A/N: The description of Amelda's photo pose was inspired by Jaejoong from the band DBSK (Dong Bang Shin Ki) - partly because I also write DBSK fanfics. Many thanks to everyone reading and please continue to **review**!


	12. Banishment

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: Please see the previous ten chapters. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Special thanks to Tie-dyed Trickster for the spells, inspiration, and encouragement. Also, a huge thank you to Malik's Bunny Mika, who both guessed where this was going and also motivated me edit this again to incorporate a few new ideas that I hadn't expanded on before. Even if I don't always respond to your PMs (I checked), I absolutely adore getting them, and really, you remind me of why I write in the first place. Btw, I did check out "Your Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus—it really is perfect. I love it!

**  
Twelve: Banishment**

_Angels work at the most basic level, healing the deepest anguish of the human heart; the feeling that we are ultimately alone in the world.  
— Eileen Elias Freeman_

It would have been immature to whine, especially when everyone was trying their best. Besides, Seto hated whining. As a matter of fact, _I _hated whining. But in spite of everything, after three whole long hours, I couldn't stand it any more.

"I thought you were going to _clarify _things with Yami," I muttered to Seto, who glanced at me briefly. I had healed slightly just over the last three hours, but my voice was still hoarse and my cheek throbbed. I could only imagine how bruised it looked, probably the worst possible combination of purple and yellow. "Doesn't that kind of imply that you have some sort of plan? You know, so all you really need to do is tweak it a little?"

"So?" Seto asked. Sometimes we were too alike; I could tell that he was just as frustrated as I was. "You're the angel, shouldn't youknow how to handle this?"

I frowned. "Fine, then, can't you make it easier to protect you?"

"It was your crazy fan and your stupid demon," he pointed out, rather unnecessarily, at least to my mind. "I think it could be argued that if I didn't have the bodyguard, I wouldn't need bodyguarding."

"It's _your _stupid demon! Notice that every single time he's gone after _you_, not me. He only gets me on accident, because I'm busy saving your sorry ass."

He gave me a look, the kind of silent retort that can't be countered. It was such a typical response that it made me feel better, but the subject still bugged me. "I'm serious, if angels are supposed to routinely fight demons, don't you think they would have mentioned something about it when I was Above?"

Kaiba shrugged and then ignored my question altogether, seemingly focused on his research. Instead of letting me help, he was convinced that I had to rest to heal the bloody gashes the demon had left on my neck. If the demon had exerted just a little more pressure with his claws, he probably would have cut through something important and killed me. That fact hadn't been lost on Seto. Far from it, actually.

As a result, anyway, I ended up doing guard duty for the demon. More out of sheer frustration than to check if it was waking up anytime soon, I gave the demon lying near my feet a kick.

The good news, I decided, was that the thing was still out. We had been periodically Tasering it when it stirred, although I wasn't sure exactly what all that extra electrical voltage would do to it. Keeping the demon alive wasn't high on the list of priorities, though. The only real worry I had was that it couldn't be killed at all. If it came from hell, it might already be dead, or at least probably not alive enough for us to make it dead.

The bad news was that we still weren't any closer to figuring out the details of the 'Triumviratus' ritual that was supposed to banish the demon. Aside from needing a mixture of demon, human, and angel blood, no one knew what kind of ritual was needed. Experimenting would probably get us killed long before it got us rid of the demon.

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or pissed when I found out that Seto and Yami had focused most of their attention on the situation with Seigo Tajima when they had been dating—or whatever they had called it. Privately, I admitted to myself that it still hurt to think of them together, 'hurt' as in feeling as if I couldn't breathe properly because there was something sharp stuck in my chest. Not that I showed any of this, of course.

In any case, not a lot of research regarding the demon had been done. It was hard to distinguish real facts and rituals from fake, and a lot of the sources mentioned that we needed the true name of the demon in order to banish it. I suppose it was something about having to know how the demon was created or about its true nature. It was only yet another problem in our demon-banishing experiment.

I tried 'calling' Asriel the same way I had done before when Seto had been shot by Tajima, but the angel either was busy or unwilling to help. Was it because neither Seto nor I were in immediate danger? Did Asriel not think that having a temporarily captive demon was urgent enough? Whatever the reason, I really hated the whole stupid setup of keeping the angel in the dark, especially when it comes to something like kill-the-demon-or-be-killed. If our lives were at risk, you would think that we would at least get some instructions.

Instead, I watched the demon while Seto and Mokuba tried to research. Seto had several search programs set up and running across different computers while his brother feverishly looked up spells on the Internet. It worried me a little that Mokuba didn't even seem to care how ridiculous they sounded. Mokuba, a devout Wiccan?

Well, stranger things have happened. I was an angel, and I was staring down at a demon, so I supposed I really shouldn't have laughed. Besides, Yami was an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh, I had taken human souls with the Orichalchos and…

"We might as well try them just in case they _do _work!" Mokuba kept saying.

The end effect of his misguided enthusiasm was that we were all wearing string necklaces with odd-shaped cloth satchels attached, as if they were ornaments and we were, well, Christmas trees. Mokuba had raided the kitchen for what seemed like every strongly-smelling herb in existence, meticulously checking his list so he wouldn't miss any that were available. There was garlic, hyssop, lavender, mugworth, peppermint, roses, rue, and a half-dozen more.

It was one of the weirdest experiences in my life to see Seto Kaiba staring intently at his computer screen while wearing a necklace hung with vervain teabags. Supposedly all of these herbs would help protect against evil. I had to bite my lip to keep from pointing out to Mokuba that the evil was already here, and I doubted that any of the plants would help against the hairy demon, unless it was to block out the smell. _Eau de Demon_ strongly resembled rotten eggs, and the slime that covered its huge bat wings was particularly rank. Since I didn't really have any better ideas and opening my mouth meant I had to inhale, all I could do was go along with it.

"Here, do this at least," Seto said, grabbing a piece of paper from the printer tray and turning to me.

"'Aura of Protection Spell,'" I read. "'Create a magical boundary to keep out evil. Arrange blue crystal gemstones around the area you wish to protect, in the shape of a double pentagram. Light ten white candles at each point of the pentagrams.'"

"It sounds simple enough, and the statistics program I ran on the available data shows that there's a high correlation between its use and improved safety," Seto explained. I raised an eyebrow, but chose not to argue. It was so like him, after all, to combine belief with data analysis.

"Where are you going to get these blue crystal gemstones, and what area do you want to protect?"

"I was actually thinking of putting it around the demon," Seto mused. "If it's a boundary to keep out evil, it should be able to seal it in, too. That way we won't have to worry about whether the demon's going to suddenly wake up and rampage on us."

"I guess…" It did make sense in a certain way, not that Seto would ever suggest anything that didn't. "Well, it seems simple enough. It can't hurt to try," I said, realizing at the last second that that I was echoing Mokuba. "What about the crystal gemstones?"

"I know where we have some," Mokuba suddenly interrupted, looking at me. "I'll go get them. But, Amelda, maybe you should also use your feathers? You can weigh them down with the crystals, and I'm sure angel feathers would strengthen the barrier."

I stretched my wings forward around me and looked at them. "I'm not sure, but why not. We've already done everything else." I suppressed a sigh when Mokuba nodded and left to get the crystals.

The silence afterward was slightly awkward, at least for me. I was acutely conscious of my secret desire to touch Seto, if only to assure myself he was there, but in some ways he felt even more unapproachable than before. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was wondering what he thought of the fact that I'd crept into his bedroom—and into his bed, although at least he hadn't been in it—like some kind of thief. Or, I suppose, a stalker. How depressing.

Either way, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to me but neither was he doing much. I peered over his shoulder, careful not to accidentally initiate contact, only to see a dozen windows on the screen. Seto actually seemed absorbed in whatever was on the screen, so I read it from behind him. It was titled _Romantic Maintenance Angel Powder_, which made my raise an eyebrow, not that he could see me.

The _Angel_ part explained why it came up as one of his hits, but the rest sounded like some bad love spell. "Grind and powder pink rosebuds, red carnations, and spearmint. Sprinkle this powder on your sheets to keep your lover interested and true."

I was reading aloud softly to myself, but it hadn't caught Seto's attention until I started laughing softly at the last part. Startled, he turned his head to the side, bringing us almost cheek to cheek.

"Is this supposed to be helping us?" I asked through my laughter. To my further amusement, the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks told me that he was embarrassed at having been caught, or maybe it was our close proximity. "Interested and true, huh…"

The color on the aristocratic cheekbones I so admired increased, but I could tell that Seto was about to make me pay for it. Sure enough, he gave me a half-smirk. "_I _wasn't the one sleeping in someone else's bed…" he said, letting his voice trail off suggestively.

I was so close that I could almost feel his warmth. The scent of him drove me slightly crazy, or at least that was what I told myself when I decided to push our game even further. I never could resist a challenge, especially with him. "At least it was _your_ bed, right?"

"Hnh," was his ambiguous reply. My hands were on either side of him, holding the arms of his chair, and he leaned back so that I was almost holding him, but not quite. "So, Amelda…were you waiting for me?"

The question took me by surprise, but it was seeing the crushed dark blue of his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. I'd long since forgotten about anything else but this intriguing conversation with him, if our exchange could be called conversation. "Maybe," I breathed into his ear before giving in and doing what I'd wanted to do from the start.

I kissed along the perfect line of his jaw, sensing rather than seeing how Seto's eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting up and baring the soft, warm skin of his throat. I tasted his shuddering pulse, feeling him swallow hard, his lips parting slightly as if to invite me. So I gave him what he wanted, my mouth descending on his, lips moving, tongue stroking. Seeking the compliance he so rarely gave. Seto groaned, reaching to pull me forward so that I ended up half sitting on his lap.

He held one hand firm around the back of my neck as I pulled out his shirt and slid mine under. The fabric bunched under his arms as I stroked over his skin, coaxing muffled sounds from him. I touched him, whisper-light, down his chest and across his tensed, hard stomach, loving the fact that I could take away his careful control. Why hadn't I discovered this earlier? Seto was so incredibly responsive, so sensitive…

The kiss ended like he didn't think it would ever last long enough. Slightly breathless, I felt him let go of me and catch my hands in his. Briefly I wondered if he was trying to pay me back, for the horrible thing that I'd done to him last time, the last kiss we'd had. Seto looked just as lost and wanting as I felt, though. The past was the past, this was now.

"The demon," he reminded me, and I suddenly remembered what we were supposed to be doing. I could've turned around right then and kicked it for all the inconvenience. "Besides, Mokuba will be back soon."

At _that _thought, I flushed, caught between desire and embarrassment. I stood up, trying to ignore how Seto just barely sighed at our separation, and looked somewhat ruefully at the _Romantic Maintenance Angel Powder_ screen on the computer.

"I doubt we'll need this anytime soon," I said weakly, with a laugh. I hastily closed the window. Although Seto was trying to school his expression back into its customary blankness, never mind his heightened color, there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

I cleared my throat, or tried to. The hoarseness of my own voice was disturbing. "Anyway…care to help me pull out a few feathers? Mokuba thinks we can use them, remember?"

"Won't it hurt you?" he asked, even as I turned my back to him and relaxed, letting my wings half-unfurl as if I were a sunbathing bird.

"I don't think so," I told him. "I molt year-round, like an eagle. Besides, you'll be gentle."

"All right then. I have the oil, too," he said. At his words, I realized that it had been quite a while since I'd taken care of my wings—I hadn't wanted to allow anyone but Seto to touch them, and besides, I had been trying to deny that I had them at all.

The first touch of his hands on my wings made me gasp, my eyes falling half closed of their own accord. Somehow, it was almost like what we'd just had; I wasn't sure if this was such a good idea after all. There was the oil warming on Seto's hands, making them slick, and then there were the possibilities flooding through my mind as his deft touch spread it over the feather shafts.

"You're so tense," Seto said softly, the tone of his voice making my heart stutter. "Just relax."

It was hard _not _to, and at the same time, almost impossible. I spread my wings wider under his ministrations, white feathers flexing and moving, trying to make it easier for him. He slid his hands all the way out to the ends of the pinions, and I bit my lip to keep from making any giveaway sound of pleasure.

"You look like a cat basking in sunlight, all satisfied and content," he told me, and then asked out of curiosity. "What do you feel when I do this?"

"Everything," I rasped out after a moment, telling myself not to be an idiot. Something in my voice evidently gave me away still; I heard his breathing shorten, quickening. A long feather came loose in his hand and I cast a look briefly over my shoulder as he gave it to me to hold. The end of the wide quill was dark with old blood; I knew there would be more.

"I can't believe I'm doing this, that I'm touching an angel's wings. Touching my angel," Seto murmured, voice soft with wonder. His hands felt the wrist joints of the wings, before the broad spread of the flight feathers, and then rubbed between the wing joints, just at the base of the wings. I couldn't help it, I moaned, arching up, pressing against him.

"You look as if it were painful…or perhaps very pleasurable…"

Somehow, hearing him say it so blatantly, as if he knew exactly what he was doing and liked it, sent another shock through me. After all, he knew by now which one it was. I deliberately let the bond open, so that he would catch the echoes of what I felt, doubling back to him. Instead of saying anything, Seto simply continued, working in silence. No words were needed, after all, when you could communicate through feeling alone.

All too soon, I was holding fourteen feathers of varying states, some more pristinely white than others. It was more than enough for a double pentagram, and Mokuba had called to tell us that he'd finally located the blue crystals from some unknown part of the mansion. I spared a moment to wonder if he'd already come back and just slipped away before either of us noticed him.

There was something about all of it that went beyond the physical pleasure or even the emotional bond between us. I suppose I had never exactly reveled in being an angel before, not unless I was flying. I had accepted it after a while, but grudgingly, because I had never _wanted _to become an angel and had never had a choice. My clinging to the past had held me back for so long. But this, being with Seto, I felt as if I was really myself—and that self was an angel.

Did it mean that I had finally lost my human self, as Asriel had told me I would? The thought that once sparked panic in me came to me naturally. It wasn't so much losing a part of yourself as discovering another, an innate nature that hadn't been needed until now. I knew now that it wasn't duty that bound me to Seto, but love, or at least the duty had been sublimated into a part of that love, just as something smaller is absorbed by the bigger.

Even with the demon at our feet, even as Mokuba came back and I started laying out the feathers and blue crystals around it, it was as if something had become complete. I took a match and lit the candles, sending the faint fragrance of vanilla into the air. Literally and metaphorically, my ruffled feathers had settled into place, leaving me peaceful, almost serene. Some of my feeling must have reflected over to the others, because Kaiba looked like the cat that he'd compared me to earlier, and Mokuba, while still energetic, no longer seemed frantic.

Once I finished with the crystals, candles, and feathers, Mokuba and I performed the ritual. Although I still didn't believe that it would do much, I had to admit that there was something graceful about it that made me feel less ridiculous than I had supposed I would. It reminded me eerily of the Seal of Orichalchos, though obviously not the same. When we were finished, Seto came to stand by us.

"Any luck on the ritual?" I asked him, rubbing my eyes tiredly. We couldn't keep the demon forever, after all. Maybe it was part of the healing process, or maybe it was just all the stress of the past twenty-four hours, but I felt drained of energy.

"The way I understand it is that we have to know the nature of the demon before we can banish it," Seto told me. "As in, we need to know its origin, or at least its original form."

"What do you mean?" I gestured helplessly at it. "Isn't it rather obvious? It didn't come from Above, and it definitely isn't something naturally from this world."

"That's not it, though," he sighed. Usually Seto's frowns made him look formidable, but this time he just looked slightly confused and weary. "I think we really have to find out if it's connected to you, or if it's going after me for some reason."

"I don't see how we're going to be able to do that unless we ask the demon," I pointed out. We both looked doubtfully at the bestial creature in the circle. Aside from the fact that it was unconscious, there was no reason for it to cooperate—even if it could manage human speech.

"We can make a timeline," Mokuba suggested with the brilliance of someone not yet trained to think _in_ the box—in other words, an adult. "You know, figure out when the demon appears and what it's trying to do each time we've seen it. Otherwise it's all jumbled up with the mess that Seigo Tajima made."

I caught the hint of pride in Seto's face as he looked at his brother, before he wordlessly took out a few sheets of printer paper and handed Mokuba a pen. "Let's see, Yami first tried to tell us about the demon right after Amelda became an angel, so its appearance might have something to do with Amelda."

"Or maybe I became an angel to protect you from the demon, which was already around," I said. "Asriel said something about how I had been given a second chance because my first one was taken away unfairly. They decided that you _needed _an angel."

"But you were made into an angel because you got shot," Seto pointed out. "So it wasn't that I needed an angel to protect me but that you became an angel and were assigned to me."

"Not assigned, _bonded_," I griped before I could stop myself. "You make me sound like some kind of paid bodyguard or something."

To which Seto rolled his eyes, but made no further comment. "Okay, so I guess we're not getting that far on this thread. It's kind of a chicken-egg problem." Suddenly, a thought occurred to me, a memory that I'd put out of my mind for a long time. "But…"

"What?" Seto asked impatiently. Mokuba was jotting this all down in somewhat messy notes, looking from his brother to me.

"I think I _was _made an angel because you needed one." Seeing that he was about to protest, I made a negating gesture. "No, hear me out. Maybe it's the same thing—that you needed one so I became one, or that I became one because you needed one—but the point is, there was something about the bonding ritual that makes me think you needed me."

"Bonding ritual? Exactly how _did _we become bonded anyway, Amelda?"

Until Seto asked, I hadn't realized that he'd never known why. I'd just showed up in his room in the middle of the night and proclaimed myself to be his angel, and Seto had just had to deal with the effects of that. But remembering the actual moment when I'd been Above, right after I'd presumably died and seen Miruko—for some reason, it was hard to talk about it.

"Well…" Seto's intent gaze made it impossible to avoid the topic, especially since I was the one who had brought it up. "Asriel gave me to his sister, Ariel. She told me some things about being reborn as an angel, about how someone had determined what we both needed, so they arranged things. It wasn't really a big deal, not even really a ritual. Just…" I hesitated, biting my lip.

"What is it? Amelda, anything that you can come up to help us get rid of the demon is going to be important."

"I had to take your pain," I said. My voice was so raspy already, both Mokuba and Seto missed what I'd said, so I had to repeat it a little louder. "I had to feel your suffering, all of your pain, at least for a few moments. That was what completed the bond."

For once, Seto looked as if he didn't know what to say. For someone so private, so used to keeping all his emotions to himself and showing only a stoic expression to the rest of the world, I wasn't sure what he would feel knowing that I'd known his weakness so intimately. He was proud, even more so than I, and I would have hated it. I almost expected him to be angry, but the emotions he couldn't keep from spilling through the bond didn't have the flavor of anger.

I tested them as if dipping my hands into water without knowing whether it would be freezing cold or boiling hot. A wave of something…I couldn't identify it quickly enough. Something almost like guilt. I looked at him, trying to read his shuttered blue eyes, asking him silently what it was. He didn't say anything, but suddenly I knew.

He was sad that I had had to be hurt by his pain. When I looked at him again, I knew that I had guessed correctly. I sensed guilt, because he wasn't angry that I had been so close to his heart, but instead, unhappy that I had to bear, even now, what I had found in it. It had been _his _pain, but because of the bond, I shared it.

I reached out and caught his hand in mine before I could think about it. Seto tensed, and then stole a look at me. Perhaps because of the bond, or not, but I had never been able to read him so clearly. Instead of saying anything, he simply looked away. I exchanged a look with Mokuba, who was wondering what was going on.

"I guess I needed you, then." It was said so quietly that I missed it at first, an admission even harder to make than mine.

Seto cleared his throat and continued to speak before either Mokuba or I could respond. "So the demon is trying to hurt me, not you. He isn't using me or Mokuba to get to you, but you're just in the way because you've been protecting us."

"The first time the demon showed up was when he grabbed me," Mokuba said after a pause. "Was there anything unusual about that? What were you guys doing?"

I looked at Seto, sure that he was remembering what I was. We had fought during our stay in the mountains when I had been learning to fly. After I had kissed him, and then again when I had accidentally seen his memories and realized how absolutely lonely he was—realized how acutely he felt that separation between himself and other beings.

He'd been so angry, I remembered with a shiver, a sudden twist of pain in my heart still. So intensely angry, like nothing I'd seen before, but we had decided to pretend things were all right between us for Mokuba's sake. Before we ever got around to acting that welcome-home scene out, Mokuba had been taken by the demon. As much as I didn't want to admit it, there might be some sort of significance to that. Perhaps the demon only got to us because angel and mortal and been at odds with each other.

"It came back," Seto said suddenly while I was still sorting out the thoughts in my head and wondering what we should explain to Mokuba. "It came back because I was angry with you again."

"What?" My voice was echoed a heartbeat behind by Mokuba's. Seto seemed pale even given the soft glow from the computer screens and the dim lighting in the room. The bond between us began to weaken as he drew away emotionally, if not physically. It took a few moments for me to realize that he'd already taken my thinking one step further, to the demon's reappearance today.

We'd been fighting this time, too. I'd kissed him, meaning to upset him, and succeeded beyond all my expectations. It had been worse than walking out on him, worse than all the other fights we'd had in our up and down emotional rollercoaster, because it had been so deliberate on my part. For once, our problem hadn't been born of a misunderstanding, or jealousy, or anything like that. I'd been angry beyond reason, and he had been, too. We had set out to hurt each other.

The demon had come back right after that. It was too coincidental. We didn't need to run an analysis program on the computer to figure out that the percent chance that it wasn't a coincidence was too high. Somehow, in some way, the demon and Seto's anger were connected. My mind stopped at that point, refusing to continue on the same thread of thought, to make the obvious connection between cause and effect.

But I saw from Seto's expression that he'd already reached the same conclusion. I knew that he had temporarily blocked the bond between us because he didn't want me to share his feelings at the moment. His hand in mine was cold; I wrapped both of my hands around it to try to warm it with my inhuman temperature.

"Maybe the demon…maybe it's a part of me," Seto said at last, voicing what we both thought but didn't want to admit. He looked almost sick in the white light, wan and suffering. Mokuba instinctively came to Seto's side, hugging his brother as best he could, and Seto let him. It was only one of the signs of Seto's pain that broke my heart.

"No," I said, accidentally crushing his fingers between mine when my hands tightened on his. I hugged both Seto and Mokuba, who was clinging to his brother. "NO. We don't know. We can't assume that."

I would have continued, but at that moment, I heard a low growl behind me. All my feathers tingled as if a slight wind had whispered through them, the instinct of an angel.

All three of us turned to look at the fully awake demon just seconds before it charged, one arm upraised to swing at us with its thick claws extended.

o o o

For one second I stood completely still and then I raised my wings up in some attempt to shield Seto and Mokuba, half-closing my eyes to the impact—

Which never came.

Mokuba's gasp made me snap open my eyes again, just in time to see a very faint shimmer in the air, blue-white, that formed a shield between the demon and us. The candles that we had placed on the floor flared, each flame leaping for a moment and burning brightly. The outlines of power looked like what my wings did when they were unsubstantiated—ghostly, giving away their presence only by the unusual way they reflected light. The blue, reminiscent of the color of the crystals I had used, only showed at the places where the demon hit the barrier, as if it were trapped inside a transparent bubble.

All in all, it was probably one of the most anti-climatic moments of my life, but the pounding of my heart reminded me to be grateful rather than careless about it. Even if the fact that we'd barely avoided serious injury hadn't impressed me, the expression on the demon's face, which made it twice as ugly as it had been, would have convinced me. From within its spiritual cage, it growled at us, continuing to wildly attack as if it could not understand that the barrier was unbreakable. At least, I hoped that the fact that it existed at all meant that it was unbreakable.

For about half a second the three of us simply looked at the demon with awe. There was something surreal about the whole thing; the barrier was also, apparently, soundproof. It was like watching a low budget horror movie, except with the knowledge that the demon on the other side of the screen was real and not just someone stuck in a bad costume.

"Wow," Mokuba said almost reverently, breaking the silence. "Cool!"

I stared at him in disbelief and then met Seto's gaze, seeing my own dumbfounded consternation on his face. We both turned as one to Mokuba again, just as he did what was undoubtedly the most childish thing I had ever seen him do. He looked straight at the demon and stuck his tongue out.

Predictably, the demon went nuts, albeit in utter silence. Encouraged by the response, Mokuba made a few more taunting faces and then gleefully surveyed the demon's rage.

It shouldn't really have been comical, but that on top of everything else was the last straw. Once the laughter burst out of me, I couldn't stop until I was almost giddy with oxygen deprivation. One look at Seto and he started to laugh too, almost helplessly. I choked and wheezed and still couldn't stop laughing, even when my sides actually started to hurt and my body reminded me I wasn't completely healed.

Mokuba gave us a supremely disdainful glare at first—the kind that only a Kaiba could have carried off—but he eventually caved too. I held onto Seto's arm for support while Mokuba's peals of laughter rang out, his eyes shining.

"Hey Amelda, you think it knows what this means?" Mokuba blew the demon a kiss.

It froze for a moment and then bashed its head against the barrier, the candles flaring joyously in counterpoint to his actions, and what had previously been scary as hell became a circus show. It slumped to the floor in exhaustion long before our laughter faded.

"So much for the scary demon," Seto smirked. "Ultimately defeated by a kid." He was proud of Mokuba, if his expression was any clue.

"Too bad it won't melt into a puddle of goo," I agreed. "Dorothy had it way too easy."

The whole atmosphere had cleared like the sky after a thunderstorm. The franticness of our search and the stress of having a killer in our midst disappeared, leaving me in a composed mood, though I was still far from relaxed. Whoever knew that our much needed tension breaker would come in the unlikely form of an irate demon?

Unfortunately, the mood also didn't last long. I knew exactly when Seto began thinking about where our conversation had left off before the sudden demon attack. My heart sank slightly with dismay, but I felt a new resolve at the same time. I was already thinking hard about what I could do and what all the new information really meant for us.

You always hear about how whenever the limits of the human will seem to have been reached, people discover a hidden reservoir of strength within themselves. Even if you're hanging on to the last inch of the rope, you find a way to go on, supposedly. I say supposedly because I was always rather skeptical about all the cliché sayings and self-help quotes, but for the first time now, I thought I really understood why people liked them. I was more determined than worried, more sure in my purpose than I had ever been.

"It's funny that I can laugh when that thing is, or at least was, a part of me," Seto said, finally, looking at the demon rather than at me.

"It wasn't," I said, and immediately realized that I had to change tactics.

Seto gave me a withering look before turning back to the demon. "You never were a good liar, Amelda."

The demon sullenly looked back at him from where it knelt on the floor, seemingly too exhausted for now to renew its attempts to break free. Mokuba implored me with his eyes to do something, his worry for his brother clear, and I let him see the determination in my grey eyes.

"So what if it was a part of you?" I said. I picked every word deliberately. I wasn't going to willingly let himself sink into guilt over the demon. "I don't think it matters."

"What do you mean you 'don't think it matters'?" Seto's voice was clipped, and I took a breath. I expected his anger to be directed at me because I had provoked it, but he surprised me. "It almost killed you, it almost killed Mokuba—and since its part of me, that just means _I _almost killed you and Mokuba. And you're saying all this_ doesn't matter_?"

"Exactly," I shot back, looking at him and refusing to let him look away. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

He was angry at himself, but just beneath that anger was a potent combination of fear and self-hatred. I understood, having been there for far too long myself, after Miruko's death. There was also the matter of Seigo Tajima, as well. I had worried at how completely justified Seto had felt in taking another man's life, but I knew now that he hadn't been sure.

"I thought you felt you couldn't love a murderer," he said so bluntly it took my breath away for a second as something spasmed painfully in the hollow void that should've been my chest. "I guess this proves you right, doesn't it? Who could love a thing like that?"

His words said one thing but the expressions flooding through the bond, despite his best efforts to keep them to himself, said another. _Who could love a thing like me_, they whispered, all the bitter guilt, the pain and fear—sharp and verging on panic, like the emotions of a wild animal caught in a trap. _I'm so broken, I'm beyond repair. Even an angel can't help, and why should I be helped? I don't deserve it._

"I can't love a murderer," I agreed, and was momentarily rendered speechless at the hurt that tore through me. Tears prickled in my eyes as I never got the chance to finish my thought, his emotions so strong they overwhelmed mine. Even if Seto had had faith in his decision, the discovery that the demon was some sort of manifestation of the darker parts of his own soul was making him question everything he had been so confident about. Beneath all the arrogance was a self-doubt so deep I didn't know where it began, carved into his soul by a stepfather who was never satisfied and etched with the fears that he wouldn't be able to protect his brother.

"So you don't care," Seto said softly, his anger completely derailed, just like that. Mokuba made a choked sound of negation but for the moment there was only him and me, and all the intensity of the past months and shared memories. "Is that it?"

"I care, Seto." My voice shook, but I forced myself to continue. "I care so much I can't even tell you, because I don't know what words I need to convince you. But you can feel it, can't you? If you open yourself to me…"

"I can't." He looked at me and then quickly away. I hated to see the helpless look in his eyes. "I don't want you to feel this."

"Seto Kaiba, admitting that there's something he can't do?"

His eyes flashed with familiar anger at that, but the emotion subsided far too quickly. The cutting retort that he should have directed toward me also went unspoken.

It was cruel, what I was doing. I knew it, but I also knew that it was necessary. What direction Seto had lost, I had found. Something about Seigo Tajima's death had bothered me so much, but I hadn't realized that it hadn't really been so much about Seto's decision, but more the fact that he had never seemed to question the validity of his actions. I'd thought that he had simply planned a man's death without consideration of right or wrong, that he'd been blind to any concept of justice except for his own, but I'd been wrong about all of it.

Tajima's death hadn't been an obvious decision or an easy one at all, but the answer was still the same after all the questions I had worried over. It was just that the questioning was vital. I had been the one unsure before and now it was Seto, but my doubts had made my belief stronger in the end. It was as if had I suddenly seen a vision and all I had to do was follow it, to trust in my own ability to see into the heart of things. It was clarity.

"Does it help if I say I love you, Seto? That I've loved you for so long now I don't even remember what it was like when I wasn't constantly thinking of you, wondering how to make you just _notice _me when we've been living in the same damn house for so long and I was invisible?"

My voice trembled despite my attempt to sound strong, as I remembered exactly how much I'd agonized over him, over my feelings for him. "So the demon was part of you, or maybe it wasn't. So what? It's not part of you any longer, and that's because you've changed."

Seto was silent to that, but still blocking me out. I wished he would let me in, wished I could know whether all my passionate words had any effect on him. I wished for a moment, selfishly, that he would say he loved me back. I was always chasing after him, running after a dream—my feelings had never been the ones in doubt, and I'd tried to tell him so many times, risking his rejection. So why couldn't he yield just a little bit?

I drew in a deep breath, tightened the control I exerted over myself. "While we're on this subject, I don't think we can find a right ritual for banishing the demon, either," I said coolly. "I don't think a ritual even exists for something like this, because it's not about rituals, but what we believe."

He finally responded to that, angrily. "Please, don't tell me that I have to have faith now, Amelda." Despite the words, the edge was lost from his voice.

"All that stuff about understanding the nature of the demon—well, we understand it now, don't we? And if you reject it, if you don't _want _for it to be a part of you, if somehow all the pain and bitterness you've had in your life, all of that you can let go…"

My throat closed up on me unexpectedly and I couldn't go on, although I had planned out everything I would say in my mind. All my persuasive arguments, appealing to both logic and emotions, and I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat. I wanted to tell him that maybe, through the experience of the love between us, of all the ridiculous things we had gone through to discover it, maybe it was enough for him to banish the demon. The hope was almost a weight in my chest, making my heart ache painfully even as I told myself to be strong. I could only suggest it, hint at it. It was Seto's decision, not mine.

In the end, it was Seto's demon after all, not mine. I might have been the angel, but I thought that perhaps the reason why those Above didn't tell me how to deal with the demon was because that wasn't my purpose. My real purpose for existence was my mortal and my mortal alone. I could love Seto and support him, I could protect him, but I couldn't really fight for him. When it came down to it, the physical strength of angels was pretty paltry compared to the inner strength that was expected of us.

I didn't know what terrible things he was remembering, or what kind of war was taking place inside his mind, but when he finally faced me it was with his blank mask perfectly in place. It had taken him a while to compose himself, but it was just as well, because I took the time to calm down as well. Maybe one of the reasons why love is so precious is because unlike almost everything else, it cannot be forced. And this, all of this, was just love in its many different forms to me.

What few emotions I sensed faintly through the bond were rigidly controlled. The bond was undeniably there, but both of us were carefully regulating what emotions were leaking to the other person. Mokuba was holding his hand, something that surprised me because I had never seen it before and couldn't have imagined it. Seto was not the kind of person to do something like that, and nor was Mokuba, for that matter of fact, but it seemed right.

"Do you have the knife?" he asked.

Involuntarily, I looked toward where it lay on the desk next to a computer, even as my heart raced. I forced myself to turn back to him, but he was already crossing the room to get it. "What are you going to do with it?"

"What you said was true, Amelda," he said, not answering my question directly. "There probably isn't a right ritual for banishing a demon, and even if there were, there's no way to be sure that we found it. I believe that the 'Triumviratus' ritual is real, though, even in its most simplified form."

"You mean the mixture of angel, human, and demon blood?" Relief mingled with a new anxiety in me. The knife Seto held was a thing of beauty, in terms of craftsmanship, and looked pretty much what I would have imagined an athame, or ritual knife, would look like. It was silver, polished so brightly that it almost glowed silver-white like a mirror, and decorated with abstract patterns. The blade was only about ten centimeters long and perhaps two in width, but it was finely honed to a razor's edge.

Despite all that, I didn't particularly relish the thought of it cutting into me, no matter how beautiful it was or how appropriately ritualistic it looked. I was even less happy at the thought of it cutting into Seto, who couldn't even heal as quickly as I would.

"Maybe it's enough," Seto said rather ambiguously. "I thought we could try, and see if you're right."

Seto didn't wait for me to think through what he had said or what he meant, but instead asked Mokuba to get the wooden bowl we had also prepared, made of the exotic ebony heartwood. Before I could stop him, he drew the silver blade over his palm and opened a shallow gash, grimacing for a moment at the pain.

"Seto!" I grabbed his hand reflexively as the blood welled up, dripping into the bowl in moments, where the brilliant scarlet looked darker. Mokuba had plenty of white gauze prepared, but just before I pressed it against Seto's hand, I hesitated.

He couldn't heal the way I could and I couldn't heal him, but I could take his wound, couldn't I? The power to hurt, the power to heal, I remembered Asriel saying to me in his melodic voice. My blood was needed anyway…

I didn't even think, I simply closed my eyes, seeking out that knowledge within me, as if I shifted into some other dimension of being. It was so fast that Seto didn't resist, not understanding what was happening when I pushed against the barriers of his subconscious—the last time this had happened, he had been dying and hadn't even had any defenses. I focused on his hand and felt the exchange, not understanding it but not needing to, either.

It was more difficult to break free from that other, shadowy world, than it had been to enter it. I had felt this once before, as if our metaphysical selves in this other existence brushed against each other, and then tried to cling to each other, to the completeness of the puzzle. I didn't want to go back, didn't want to have to face all the uncertainties of our reality. It was so simple here, we were so effortlessly _together_, just him and I.

"Amelda! Wake up, damn it!" The grip on my wrist was strong enough to leave bruises and it hurt even more as fingers clenched harder. "Amelda!"

The jolt brought me back to my body and I found myself staring at my hand, which was copiously bleeding into the bowl. The red was startling against my white skin, like rubies. Combined with the black bowl, I thought briefly of Snow White, but instead met a pair of angry sapphire eyes.

"What the hell did you do, Amelda? What was wrong with you?"

"Seto, let me go, your fingers hurt more than the stupid cut. All we need now is the demon's blood." Mokuba stuffed a bunch of white gauze into my hand and I clenched it into a fist around it, wincing for a moment. The cut would heal soon, though I thought that Seto had probably done overkill with the knife. Misplaced enthusiasm to hurt himself and all. The bowl, small as it was, was still half full already. Wouldn't a few drops have served just as well?

"What was wrong with you?" Seto repeated, although he loosened his grip.

"I just did a switch, the same kind of thing as before," I explained, sighing a little at his overreaction. "That way you're healed, and I don't even have to really cut myself with the knife."

"You scared us, Amelda." I looked at Mokuba, surprised at the slight accusation in his tone. He tilted his head slightly toward his brother. "It looked like you fainted."

Hearing it from Seto would have only made me exasperated, but I was chastened by Mokuba. "I should have told you guys before I did it, I guess," I said by way of apology.

Mokuba rolled his eyes and nodded, but Seto wasn't the least bit satisfied. "Amelda, I don't want you doing switches, ever. I don't care if it's just a cut or if my life's in danger, I'm not going to let you do it."

It threw me, his stubbornness and the way he seemed to take it as a personal insult. "Why not?"

"You have to ask?" he retorted. "You're my angel, Amelda, not my—my pain-bearer or something."

"The difference is, regardless of pain, I can heal it but you can't, Seto." I wondered if the blood was cooling in the bowl or if it would even congeal, and couldn't see why we were arguing over this.

"Do you remember what you said to me before you left?" Seto demanded. "You told me that being an angel isn't the same as being a slave. Do you want the exact quote? I only heard it a thousand times since then, so let's see, it goes something like this: 'I'm not yours, Kaiba.'"

I didn't know what to say to his vehemence, and didn't understand what he meant by it. "But I _am_ yours, Seto. You know I said that only because I was angry, because I wanted to be yours and you didn't want me."

"I _want _you, Amelda. How can I make you understand?" Seto covered my fists with his hand, looking at the now blood-stained bandaging. "I want you not as an angel doing its duty but as you. I don't want you to do this out of obligation, I don't want you to protect me at the expense of protecting yourself."

"This isn't about duty to me, Seto. It's about love." I looked at him, even more striking when he was passionate.

"Then you should understand that because I love you, it makes me crazy to know that you're hurt because of me." He drew me against him before I had a chance to gasp, wrapping his arms around me for a hard embrace. "Promise me you won't do something like that again without asking me."

I pressed my cheek against his shoulder and replayed his words in my mind, wondering if he could feel how my heart suddenly beat much too fast and too loudly. "I promise," I said out of my suddenly dry mouth. His arms relaxed around me and he sighed, and then after a moment reluctantly let me go.

It was hard not to feel a little disappointed that we couldn't have made the moment last a little longer, but we had business to take care of, and my heart was overflowing with happiness anyway. It would just be another thing to add to the long list of reasons for hating the demon. Number 467, the inconvenience of banishing it when there are Much Better Things To Do, like kiss Seto.

Mokuba had his back to us, teasing the demon again, and I flushed with embarrassment when I remembered that he had been here during the entire time. Sending a silent apology to him, I picked up the wooden bowl with my uninjured hand and walked over to where the demon was bound by the spiritual circle.

"How are we going to cut the demon through the barrier? Any ideas?" I asked Mokuba.

"I think we have to get rid of it," he replied. "I tested it, and it doesn't seem to let anything through."

Seto's eyes narrowed at the thought of Mokuba dangerously sticking his hand through the barrier, but he let it slide. "How do we undo the spell?"

"I think that's easy enough," I said. "Just remove one of the crystals or feathers. Usually when there are circles drawn with chalk, all that's needed is to break the pattern, after all. We'll have to figure out a way to take it down immediately, before it escapes again, though."

"That's what the Taser is for," Seto said, smile somewhat vindictive.

"Okay then, on three?" I waited as he insisted that Mokuba get behind him and then got into a ready stance, then reached out to the crystal. I took it away along with the feather and blew out the candle, the demon's enraged roar filling my ears the moment the spell broke.

Seto took it down almost immediately until it was on the floor, looking up at us with those rage-filled eyes. Together Mokuba, Seto, and I bound him as well as we could with restraints, and then I got the knife and bowl. I debated briefly and then decided that cutting his arm would be the easiest way. I was just about to do that when the demon twisted its bull-like head in my direction and pinned me under his eyes.

'_Send me back to hell, and you'll go with me!_'

I almost dropped the knife in my surprise. I hadn't thought that it was completely conscious and I had never heard the demon with anything remotely resembling human speech, but there was nowhere else it could have come from.

Mokuba looked at me, wondering why I had stopped, and I realized that I hadn't heard it spoken out loud. It hadn't come from the demon's mouth, which probably wouldn't have been able to shape human speech in any case. That meant I had heard it mentally, and a quick glance at Seto confirmed that he had heard it as well.

"What do you mean?" Seto snapped out. I opened my mouth to tell him not to bother debating with a demon, but it was too late. The voice filled my mind again.

'_If I'm gone, do you suppose he'll stay with you? Or that the angels Above would let him?' _There was vicious laughter that made my head throb, and I even covered my ears with my hands in a futile attempt to block it out, forgetting that the demon's speech existed only in my mind.

"Stop it!" I shouted, to no effect.

'_The Guardians of Faith can be cruel in their kindnesses, for angels and demons but reflect one another. A little bit of him_,' the demon flashed through mental images of me and it was disorienting to see myself through his eyes, _'is in me. And a bit of me is in those called angels, whom men believe are blessed. But angel or demon, it is a curse, not a blessing. I warn you, in banishing me, you banish him as well!' _

The last was directed with all its force at Seto, who moaned in some kind of pain. Whatever the demon was doing, it wasn't just speaking to Seto, or at least not in the same way that it was speaking to me.

He looked up at me, and whatever he saw left his eyes desolate and cold. "Is it true, Amelda? Is what he says true?"

It pulled a response from me even when I didn't understand what was happening. "I don't know."

The demon was whispering to me now, so many words and so fast that I couldn't even pick up the meaning, but it hurt. It felt as if every word was another slice inside my head.

"Amelda, the knife," Mokuba shouted at me, shoving it at my hand. He was right next to me but I looked at him as if from far away. My head rang with all the conflicting things, but my fingers clenched around the handle of the athame.

"Is it true?" Seto was asking, and I kept repeating _no_, but I didn't know to what, and he didn't believe me.

I held the bowl in place and tried to block it all out, tried to steady my hands enough to cut the demon and then realized that it didn't matter. Instead of slicing its shoulder, I gripped the hilt and stabbed it into his arm and then pulled it out again.

Blood gushed from the wound and I dropped the knife, holding the bowl with both hands to catch it. It was dark blood, almost black, and when it joined with the blood already in the bowl, the mixture reacted strangely.

The bowl filled almost completely with blood so I lifted it away, holding it above the demon and ignoring how some of that hot blood had gotten onto my hands, making the wood slippery. I thought of the cut on my hand, wondered what would happen if this toxic mixture entered my bloodstream, and couldn't focus enough to care. The demon was talking to me again, and so was Seto, and so was Mokuba.

"Is it true?" The demand kept coming and the anguish in Seto's voice forced me to answer.

_Idon'tknowIdon'tknowIdon'tknow…_

'_Banish me and you banish yourself as well—'_

"Amelda, he's hurting, help him… Help him!"

'_You will never see your beloved mortal again—no threat…No use…what angel without a demon?'_

"Stop it," I pleaded.

Without warning, the bowl grew hot and I screamed, trying to tear my hands away from its sides, but succeeded only in upsetting the mixture enough for some to slop over the side and onto the demon.

My hands were being burned but the mingled blood was burning the demon too, and without thinking about it, I tipped the bowl over so that all of it splashed onto the demon. Shrill, uncontrolled cries filled my head, and I didn't know whose they were, but the pain was unbelievable. It crept up from my hands, like every nerve was being burned, and I saw Seto look at me, blue eyes lucid again, and I screamed. I felt myself grow lightheaded at the intensity of the burning taking over my body.

"Please…" I didn't know who I was begging but it was better to plead than to scream, and I felt the burning fire stream through my veins and make its way into my heart.

"No," I whispered with a conviction that didn't come from within me, and then surrendered to the painless dark.

o o o

A/N: Please **review**? Pretty please?


	13. Messengers

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: Please see the previous chapters. No copyright infringement intended.

**  
Thirteen: Messengers **

"_Angels are spirits, but it is not because they are spirits that they are angels. They become angels when they are sent. For the name angel refers to their office, not their nature. You ask the name of this nature, it is spirit; you ask its office, it is that of an Angel, which is a messenger."  
— St. Augustine_

I was running, my breath coming in harsh pants from my burning lungs, and my heavy legs refusing to provide the speed that my mind demanded. I saw Miruko ahead of me in flashes, like a reassuring beacon and didn't bother yelling for him to run. Our new lives were filled with the deafening roars of warfare. We had grown used to communicating in all the more primitive ways, in the expressions of fear and instinct that charged every exchange with crucial information. I reached out and grabbed his hand as I passed him, forcing him to follow me as best he could while behind us the world was shattering into pieces.

My heart was pounding so fast that it felt like it would burst from my chest. Miruko's hand was ice cold in mine, but neither of us looked back. There was nothing to see but war-torn land, and I knew without a doubt that some of Miruko's friends hadn't survived this latest attack. Later, I knew I would remember the glimpses I had seen, the loose-limbed body on dusty rubble, and later I would remember who it was. But right now there was no time to mourn. Not unless we wanted to join them in death, and despite the hell we had been thrust into, I had learned that the human survival instinct could override almost any horror.

Another bomb exploded near us and I thrust Miruko behind me as we both crouched down instinctively. I barely had time to throw up my free arm to shield my face before the wave of flame and heat swept over us. It was agonizing, but my pain tolerance had developed to a high threshold.

Even so, a short cry worked its way past my throat at the sudden white-hot pain in my right arm, as if something had cut deeply into it while simultaneously burning it. I bit down on my lip, ignoring the tears stinging in my eyes. I smelled burned flesh, my stomach lurching. I couldn't see past the smoke but it was a good thing because it meant that no one else could see us.

In the confusion I had briefly let go of Miruko's hand, sparking a moment of panic in me, but I grabbed it again. I told myself to ignore the rapidly cooling blood that first made our linked hands slippery and then seemed to bind them together with stickiness. An injured arm was better than an injured leg. I could still run, and running was living.

"On three, okay Miruko?"

I sensed his readiness rather than saw it and we waited, the seconds passing by sluggishly, before we burst forward together. Adrenaline pumped through my body as we sought a better hiding place. The smoke was all around, invading my lungs, blinding me with ash and heat.

I heard Miruko's sharp gasp even as I felt his hand violently torn from mine. I stopped immediately and turned around, trying to see him through the grey smoke. I found his indistinct shape on the ground but beyond my initial fear for his safety, I felt as if there was something else vaguely wrong.

Kneeling next to him, I realized that the eyes that met mine were more blue than grey, and the hair too dark. For a moment I thought that I had pulled the wrong child along with me, that it wasn't my brother before me at all. But this one, he was my brother as well, and something gnawed at the edges of my consciousness.

Of course the boy in front of me wasn't Miruko, because I had seen Miruko die right before my eyes eight days ago. Or was it nine?

"Mokuba," I whispered, and then the grey edges of the world around me darkened further, and I felt myself spinning helplessly into yet another heart-wrenching dreamscape.

o o o

I was kissing him, exploring the taste of his mouth, my hands gliding over hot, bare skin. I had never wanted anyone, anything, as much as I wanted him. The room was bright, the sunlight pouring across his skin, and I paused for a moment when my hands encountered soft cloth. He was wearing what I could only describe as robes, something that looked like a cross between a monk's garb and the minimal clothing artfully draped on the marble sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses.

Seeing him sprawled half on his side, propped up on one elbow and watching me with those appreciative eyes, I couldn't focus on anything else. As strange as it all was, I felt no alarm. Instead, I slipped the edges of the robes off his shoulders so that the cloth pooled around his waist. The bedroom was almost white, the stream of brilliant light turning everything to rose and gold, as if it could penetrate past the skin and straight to the heart.

But even as I filled my gaze with that lean, muscled body, a figure stepped into the room through a doorway that hadn't been there just moments before. The stranger was beautifully androgynous, with tawny, pixie-style hair on a pointed face and huge green-gold eyes, reminding me of a cat. More strikingly, there were brilliantly white wings that now took on the golden hues of the room, until it almost seemed as if the angel glowed.

"Who are you?" Having seen both Asriel and Ariel, and having compared myself to them, I thought I had a good idea of what angels were like. But this one looked more like a Shakespearean Puck than a Raphael wielding a flaming sword.

"I am your messenger, in place of Asriel." The angel spoke perfectly normally, unlike Asriel with his archaic speech. I was relieved by what he said, but only minimally. Generally when I saw another angel, it was when either there had been a death or one was imminent.

"Okay, so who are you?"

"I am brother to Asriel, he who has guided you thus far, but it matters not, for all angels are brethren."

Hearing Asriel's name for the second time made me sit up straighter and I suddenly remembered what I had forgotten about my first and last visit to Above, the whiteness and light that seemed to banish even the memory of shadows. Except, as I recalled, you only went Above when you were dead.

Seeing my hesitation, the angel regarded me with thoughtful eyes. "I am Anafiel," he said finally, and I belatedly looked toward Seto to see what he was making of all of this, only to find that he wasn't there. One moment he had been besides me, and the next he had disappeared.

Anafiel saw my look of confusion and alarm. He shook his head slightly, as if pitying me. "He should not be here, but he is in contact with your body on Earth. The bond is very powerful between the two of you. Asriel has allowed you far too much freedom."

I bristled at the unsubtle censure, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing so that I faced Anafiel. He was shorter than me, a fact that didn't give me much comfort, since he looked more dangerous than he should have, with his narrow shoulders and lithe, slender build. "What am I doing here and what's the message?"

"You cannot have him, Amelda, and return," Asriel said gravely. "You are of Heaven and he is of Earth. There are places where even angels fear to tread."

"What do you mean?" I was starting to get a little angry, unfamiliar as Anafiel was, but even as my unease increased, it was as if there was a wall between myself and my emotions. I was alarmed, but only distantly. The rest was cool rationality. It felt forced, the same feeling as when you go to the dentist for a painful procedure, but receive anesthesia. Some part of my mind was aware that I should be feeling much more.

"Angel and mortal need each other, it is in the nature of the bond. But the two cannot be confused, _must not _be confused. Need is not want, Amelda, and should not be. You will not be able to be by his side forever, for you must return Above once your task is completed."

I suddenly saw where this was all going. "Wait, let me make something _absolutely_ clear. I won't leave him. I swore to protect him and I'm his guardian angel. You guys were the ones that made me so, remember?"

I glared at him when he was silent in response to my outburst. "'A bond is for-ever,'" I quoted at him, "or did I only imagine that part?"

There was slight sorrow in Anafiel's face and I would have been more comfortable with any other emotion, even condescension. "Your immediate presence on earth was to find and rid Seto Kaiba of the demon, that which was connected to him. A bond is indeed for-ever, but angels are but messengers, Amelda, and you will need to return to your true home. Asriel should have made that clear to you."

"I don't understand, the bond itself makes it unbearable to be away from him." I glared at the angel accusingly, but again, frustration seemed to slip away from me, so I turned to reason. "Why build in the compulsion if we have to be separated? Is that torture supposed to be part of the nature of angels as well?"

The problem was that Anafiel was equally reasonable. "Amelda, once the pressing danger is gone, the nature of the bond changes as well. Did you expect it to be so inflexible? It is strongest only at the beginning, but once the angel accepts the duty of protecting the bonded mortal, free will is restored."

"So now I no longer need to stay by his side?" I hadn't noticed it, but as I searched my memory, I realized that what Anafiel said was true.

"Did you not leave Seto Kaiba for a time, ignoring the connection between you, and suffering no ill effects? There was no danger present at that time, therefore you were able to do so." Anafiel took my hands in his and I let him.

"This has been hard for you, Amelda. For that, I am sorry."

I drew my hands away in irritation, but he caught at them again. From that small connection, a sense of calm spread over me and melted away all thoughts of resistance. Anafiel looked at me intently with his oddly attractive face. "Unlike myself, Amelda, you are not what we would call a true angel, one who was directly created and who knows no other life, no other role for which to exist. As a transformed angel, you have had to suffer as humans do. You continue to suffer still, bound to human emotions, but once you return, you will be free."

It was not a freedom I wanted. I was sure of that at least, no matter what Anafiel said. "And what if I simply refuse to return? Isn't that an expression of my free will, too?"

He seemed to have been expecting that response as well. I hated how he seemed to be able to read my mind, but the momentary hate slipped away when I realized how much easier it was for him to communicate with me. He knew me more intimately than I knew myself, or did he? "Your wings will be clipped, and you will become almost as a mortal again, earth-bound, without flight." Anafiel said it all in a curious tone, neither making it seem like a punishment, nor sounding as if it were really a choice.

"I become human again?" I asked, just to be sure. It seemed too good to be true, but the reserve in Anafiel's eyes stopped me from hoping.

"No, Amelda. You have become an Angel, nothing will change that. You will be an exile, caught between two worlds. Once you have tasted the joy of flight, the wind no longer feels the same, even in its most innocent caress on your face. So it would be for all your angelic nature, caught in a human world. In time, it may become unbearable."

I struggled to answer Anafiel but I was beginning to feel lightheaded. There was a sensation like the sunlight was trying to crawl up my veins, frightening and painful, but not quite real.

"And Seto? What would happen to him? Would I be able to ever see him, if I were to return to Above?"

Anafiel let go of my hands and I suddenly found myself collapsing back onto the bed. Visions of black and gold fireworks were starting to fill my head, and the burning in my body was increasing. Like before, it didn't hurt, but it felt as if it should have, as if I was actually in incredible agony. Somehow I knew that whatever medicine or trick of power it was, it would soon begin to wear off.

"I cannot lie, Amelda. If you return to Above, you will always be able to see him. You will still be his guardian, but a man's greatest danger is but himself, and together you have defeated his demon." Anafiel reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from my face almost tenderly. His fingertips rested on my forehead for a moment. "You would not forget, Amelda, but all the others would. It would be painless for all the humans who have been involved. They would continue on with their lives, never quite remembering the presence of an angel in their lives. No harm would come of it."

"No harm?" I murmured.

"You must also consider. If you return Above, there are other loved ones here that you will see, your brother and your parents, and all those you have once lost to death."

"Miruko," I said, heart beating faster. "I would see him?"

"You have seen him before, have you not?"

"And would Seto forget?" I thought of all the highs and lows of our relationship, the pain that it had brought to both of us. I remembered the month and a half of separation, which had seemed to drag on for so long. I remembered its end and the joy I had felt, not so long ago, at the fulfillment of my deepest, dearest dream.

"Yes, he would forget everything. It would be as if he never met you again after your death. What you have done for him, though – that will remain unchanged. He is a different person because of what you have been in his life."

"So how can he forget?" I whispered. "How can it all be erased like that?"

"Because life is a slate, Amelda, and the stories we write on it are but written in chalk. It is ever changing, ever ephemeral. But some, which touch the heart so deeply, are never fully erased. He will not remember you, but he will remember what he has learned from you."

"No…" I denied it. The thought was too frightening, too hurtful, to think about. As if responding to the emotional distress, I knew I was only hanging on to my consciousness by my fingertips. "No, it can't be."

"Close your eyes, Amelda," Anafiel whispered, a touch of command in his voice, and I obeyed instinctively, feeling myself slide into nothingness once again.

And could have cried when I realized it was reality, and earth, that waited for my return.

o o o

"I'm okay," I said as soon as I opened my eyes, because I felt panic and concern radiating in waves toward me, and I realized quickly that the upper part of my body lay in someone's lap. "I'm okay, I'm fine."

"Amelda?" Mokuba and Seto were staring at me like they thought I had died, which was funny until I realized that, considering the circumstances, they might not be too far from the truth.

I opened my mouth to answer but at that moment all the pain that had been blocked out returned in one shocking moment. My hands were burning again, I felt like there was some corrosive acid in my blood, waiting to eat its way out of me. My body convulsed, my hands flexing, grabbing and crushing what was in them. A moment later, I let go of Mokuba, sending a silent apology to him with a quick look. As I examined myself, I realized that I looked outwardly as fine as I had been claiming – not burned like I was feeling.

Even if Seto couldn't see it, though, he could feel my pain. I quickly blocked it off from the bond and tried to look around. I was back in Seto's room, so that was a plus. No sign of the demon, although the circle was still on the floor, along with the overturned black bowl and what looked like burn marks where there should have been spill marks. "What happened?"

Before I had my reply, I saw a doorway appear over Seto's shoulder where there should have only been a wall. I started cursing.

Anafiel walked through. Seto and Mokuba turned to look at him as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing, and indeed, he looked even better on earth than he had Above. He was all tawny and gold, and even his skin shone like there was golden glitter on it, although I was sure that if I rubbed it, nothing would come off but a few skin cells. If true angels had skin cells, that is. I wondered if they had hearts.

After a bare moment of astonishment, Seto and Mokuba turned back to me. I felt like a pigeon being compared to an eagle.

"_Now_ what do you want?" I demanded, glaring at Anafiel. Whatever anger-blocking tactics were used before seemed to have completely disappeared now. "I thought we were done with the cryptic instructions? Or are you coming to tell me a few more rules I didn't know about, after I've apparently broken them?"

"I am not a messenger for you," Anafiel replied calmly. "I have told you what you must know, Amelda. It is your human that I have come to speak with."

"Who are you?" Seto shot at Anafiel before either of us could say anything else. Anafiel's attention turned completely to him and for a moment Seto looked stunned, as if the full weight of those green-gold eyes rendered him slightly awestruck. I inwardly fumed. No doubt it was another angelic power that I knew nothing about. Or maybe Anafiel was just that awesome, literally.

"You will need to let Amelda go, once he tells you the entirety of it," Anafiel said. I nearly snorted. Typical of an angel to drop in, say a few completely ambiguous phrases, and then fly off without explaining anything.

"What entirety? You didn't even explain it to _me_ that well," I said. Anafiel arrogantly ignored me and turned back toward the doorway. I jumped up to stop him, but even as I reached out it was too late. The angel calmly passed through and my hands met nothing but solid wall. At least he had kept his words to Seto short and hopefully forgettable. Still, Anafiel was the kind of person—or angel—that was hard to forget after even one encounter.

I cursed some more while Seto and Mokuba looked at me bemusedly.

"What was all that about?" Seto asked. I didn't even know where to start, but now that I had really looked at myself, I realized I was covered with brownish dried blood. Mokuba saw my look of disgust.

"I'll go get some water so you can clean up," he volunteered. "Or do you want to take a shower first, if you're really all right?'

I shook my head. "I want to know what happened first, but some water would definitely be helpful." Mokuba nodded and left, but not before giving me a look that told me I shouldn't expect the water anytime too soon. He clearly wanted to give us some time and privacy to talk things over, except that was exactly what I didn't really want to do – not until I'd had some time to process it myself. But I couldn't get the message across to Mokuba with Seto right there and he was already gone before I could think of a more subtle way to do it.

"So how did I end up like this anyway?" As I asked, I took a closer look around the room, which was in a mess. "How long was I out?"

"Only for a few minutes, actually," Seto replied to my relief. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well…I think the demon was talking to us and I dumped the blood all over it to try to get it to stop. The blood felt like it was burning." It still did, actually, but Seto didn't seem to realize it, so I must have been doing a pretty good job of pretending otherwise.

Seto nodded unhappily, his eyes looking haunted again, just like they had before I'd lost consciousness. "The demon acted like it burned him too, and went on a rampage. I guess in life and death struggles, it can still override the Taser's effects, and we broke the protective barrier in order to cut him for the blood, remember?"

"Are you guys both all right?" I asked. They had both looked as if they had escaped unharmed, but it was stupid of me to assume. Besides, I wouldn't have put it past Seto to cover up any injury he could have sustained.

"Fine, Amelda. _You _were the one who dropped to the floor screaming and pleading for it to stop. It looked like the blood that was poisoning the demon was also getting rid of you too, and then you just passed out."

_And scared the crap out of you_, I thought. He didn't have to say it, I could see it in his face. Seto had thought that I was dying. I wanted to gloss over this part for now, so I deliberately didn't let him dwell on it. "So then what happened to the demon? Is it gone?"

"Banished, I suppose. Actually, it's kind of hard to tell. It was writhing on the floor but both Mokuba and I went toward you when it dropped, and then when I turned to look again it just seemed to burn into ash – but without any actual flames, at least none I could see. The only things left of it are those burn marks and smudges."

"So at least we got rid of it," I mused. "We must've done something right with the whole 'Triumviratus' ritual after all."

"But what happened to you, Amelda?"

I shrugged carefully. "I'm not sure, but I'm fine now. I guess I just had a bad reaction to the blood, too." I tried to smile at that, but Seto met my eyes, and the heat in his sharp gaze told me he hadn't missed a thing.

"You still feel it, don't you? Whatever the blood did to him, it's doing to you," he growled.

"I'm fine, Seto."

"Don't lie to me. The bond makes that pretty hard to do, doesn't it?"

"It's not like that. I'm still around, not turning to ash," I said. He still looked pissed and clearly knew that I wasn't telling the whole story. "All right, it does still feel like something's burning in my blood, but I'm fine as far as I can tell."

"Then what was that angel doing, and what did he mean?"

"Seto…" All I could do was tell him the truth. Part of it, anyway. "I have to think about this a little first, okay? I'm not sure what it all means yet, and it's too much to take at once."

Even with the bond pretty much closed down between us, the stiffening set of his shoulders told me that he was angry at my evasion. "You still don't trust me. Because of Seigo Tajima."

Truth to tell, Tajima hadn't been part of my thoughts at all, but I shrugged helplessly now. "I trust you, Seto, but it's more complicated than that."

My words lay heavily between us when he said nothing in reply. I took a seat on the bed while Seto continued to stand in front of me. The banishment of the demon should have felt like an accomplishment, but it didn't. The demon had planted a seed of doubt in Seto's mind, and thanks to the new information I had learned, I was only watering that seed.

The demon was gone, but he'd poisoned us all the same. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, another occurred to me. The burning I felt in my blood, was it also some kind of poison? Would it get worse or would it simply disappear, like a bad aftereffect? I swallowed heavily. What was it that the demon had said? _Banish me and you banish yourself as well…_

And now, thanks to Anafiel's 'message,' maybe it was true. He hadn't told me how much time I had left on earth; what if when the burning subsided, I was to be sent back Above? Or maybe the burning would continue until this body turned to ash here and I returned that way…and all Seto would know or think was that I died and left him. Maybe the fire I felt was holy fire or some kind of heavenly, cleansing thing. Maybe it was a good thing. Hadn't I felt as if it was sunlight flowing through me when I was Above?

But I knew for sure that the blood that ran in my veins looked as red and mortal as any human's. Enough of it had been spilled for me to have confirmed that. There _had _to be a difference though, why else would the banishment spell call specifically for the combination of angelic, human, and demonic blood?

"Is it true, Amelda?"

The sudden question and hand that reached out to rest on my shoulder made me give an involuntary jerk of surprise. Seto took his hand away carefully, taking my physical reaction as a sign of rejection.

"Is what true?" I remembered that he had been repeating the question over and over again, responding to whatever the demon had been telling him.

"That you'll leave now that the demon is gone."

I was looking down but Seto reached out to cup my chin, tilting my face upward so I had to meet his eyes. "Is it true?"

I reached out to wrap my arms around his waist, drawing him closer. The position was awkward so I slid forward until I sat on the edge of the bed, spreading my thighs so he could press closer to me. In other situations, it would have been suggestive, even seductive, but I wasn't thinking of that.

"A bond is _for-ever_," I whispered, cheek pressed against his ribs. "Nothing but death can break it."

Slowly he relaxed against me, his hands coming to cup my head, fingers threading through the red strands of my hair. "You make me desperate," he said softly. "If only you knew how much you mean to me."

"But I do know, Seto. I know."

My throat was tight with tears and a few slipped from my eyes, but with my face buried in his shirt, Seto didn't notice.

I knew I hadn't actually answered his question.

o o o

The next few hours were exhausting even for me. There were calls to make to Emerson and the others, a performance to cancel, and I had too much on my mind. I took a much needed shower – Mokuba had never actually showed up again – while the brothers cleaned up the room as best they could. The burning sensation didn't go away even under the warm water, but at least I was clean.

The wings were another matter. Blood had splattered on my feathers and I didn't know exactly how to get it out, unless I was going to try actually wetting my wings. In the end, Seto apparently had had the foresight some months ago to buy some kind of special solvent expressly for the purpose of getting blood out of feathers and other delicate things.

It was a painstaking process, complicated by the fact that I did it myself. Seto offered to help, of course, and even Mokuba would have helped, but I used the excuse that I needed to think to buy me some privacy. I _did _need to think, but it was also harder now to tune out the burning sensation because I thought it was getting worse. Even with the solvent, it took me a long time. I flexed my wing forward, confronted by the very things I didn't really want to examine closely.

An angel. That was what I was, not a normal human being anymore, not the Amelda I had been. I should have been used to it by now…being by myself, that is, not the angel part. After the war took away my parents, after Gozaburo Kaiba took away my brother, I had nothing. There was Doom, and Raphael and Varon, but things still changed in the end. Human relationships were built to fall apart, one way or another. But afterward, somehow Raphael and Varon hadn't left, and before I knew it, I had made a place for myself here. Friends that I had never thought possible to have were with me, and I was content in a way that I had never been before.

I finally felt as if I belonged somewhere. I had gone through my entire life without having any real ties to anyone. After Miruko, I simply realized that it was easier to be independent, but although it had been a decision at that time, it had shifted into a trap before I realized it. It was hard to admit, but I wanted a connection to someone.

So I had made one with Kaiba, on the idea of revenge. Not what you would think of as your typical loneliness-banishing relationship, but that was what it was, in some ways. Kaiba was a focus, he was a goal. I was closer to him in hate than I was to anyone else in any other emotional way.

Now… Raphael…Varon…Emerson and all my bandmates… Their names echoed in my head with a familiar ache, but none hurt more than the one that came next. Kaiba… Seto and Mokuba. They had come so dangerously close to my heart after all this time. All the little moments, even the ones that had hurt. Looking back, I realized that Kaiba never would have tolerated my constant presence if he hadn't had some feelings for me. From the beginning, there were always little signs. I'd just missed them, too wrapped up in the changes in myself to see how he was changing. He hadn't even put up much of a fight when I'd told him that I had to be close to him because of the bond. When had the infamous Seto Kaiba ever let anyone into his home?

Even through the worst of it, when I'd run away, I'd known at least that he was still there. Maybe he would be with someone else, maybe he wasn't even thinking of me, but he was _there_. Sometimes annoyingly so.

Only Kaiba had ever filled me with that kind of warmth and safety, only he had made me feel like I was complete. I wouldn't give that up.

But for all Anafiel's talk of free will, it didn't seem like I had a choice at all. I wished that I could have avoided the entire question and acted like nothing had changed, but Anafiel's repeated visits made it impossible. Seto had backed off for now, but only because I had implicitly promised to explain everything later. Besides, the burning sensation was as good as a ticking time bomb, and I was almost certain the 'cure' for it would be something like a return to Above. My true home, except everything in me told me that I had made my true home here, with everyone I cherished.

Had Anafiel's description of exile from Above really weakened my convictions so much? All the introspection only gave me a headache and made me more and more depressed.

It was night outside. I knew it was pure foolishness, but I felt like a caged animal, and I couldn't stand it any longer. I slipped outside, stopping only to leave a short note for Seto and Mokuba to reassure them that I hadn't disappeared. The cold air cleared my head a little, but didn't ease the heaviness of my heart. I almost wished that something would happen to me, so I wouldn't have to deal with any of this.

Banishing the demon had been the straightforward part, after all. I hadn't listened to the demon, but there was some truth to its words. By banishing him, I was banishing myself from Seto's side, because there was no longer any reason for my presence. Except one, the most important one to me: I loved him.

Back to the KaibaCorp Tower, not as difficult as it could have been because I had taken Kaiba's keycard with me. Still, I had to be careful not to set off any alarms, which wasn't too difficult since I wasn't actually trying to access any important areas. Kaiba would have used retinal scans for those. All I wanted to do was go back to the very top floor.

Once I was there, it looked like a toy map of the city was spread at my feet. The lights made everything lovely, the scene completely different from what I had experienced in the day. One thing was still the same though, the thinness of the air and the force of the winds.

I felt it against my feathers and gave in to the secret desire in my heart. I opened my wings and stepped off the tower, feeling the rush of adrenaline, the sudden panic-induced moment of clarity in my mind, when reflexes and instinct came together with only one goal, to continue survival.

All the world was the sky, and all the sky was freedom. No more thoughts to clutter my mind, no more doubts and fears in my heart, just unthinking bliss.

o o o

"Did anyone call 119?" "Shhh!!"

"It looked like a huge bird just fell out of the sky—" "You saw it too?"

"Should we call the police?"

Voices overlapped and rose above the ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes to see the face of a concerned woman leaning over me and thought, _oh crap_. Already, I could tell that there were more people gathering around me, even though I had not noticed many pedestrians before my untimely fall.

I remembered the rush I felt as I was falling, the unbearable pressure on my wings when I suddenly snapped them open at the last second, and then my realization that I had mistimed it. Stupid. Unbelievably stupid. Stupid to the point that I could barely believe that I had done it, even when I was facing the consequences now. Didn't I used to be afraid of heights?

Even as part of my mind was berating myself, another part was busily assessing the situation. I was fairly sure that I had at least cracked the bones of my right wing, if the sudden, shooting pain was any indication. What worried me more was that when I sat up, the circle around me actually enlarged as people took reverent steps back, something like awe in their eyes. It wasn't hard to guess what they were thinking. They had just seen an angel fall out of the sky.

How much time would I have before they decided that they should hold onto said angel?

As soon as that thought came, I realized I should be thankful that they were too busy pondering my wings to possibly recognize me as a singer from their local up and coming band. The very first thing I had to do was to get rid of the wings!

I closed my eyes briefly to shut out their faces and tried to concentrate so that I could make my wings vanish to their usual nearly imperceptible state. The burning feeling in my blood hadn't lessened after my fall and even ratcheted up another notch on the pain scale now, causing me to grit my teeth. That, along with my new self-inflicted injuries (_stupid_, Amelda!), made me realize that it wasn't going to happen.

When I opened my eyes, the four people around me were looking less awed and more concerned for my state of health. The woman looked as if she was getting ready to reach out to help me, the expression on her face a mix of wonder and determination. _Oh crap_, indeed. The Kaiba Corp. pin on the lapel of her classy suit made me want to curse Kaiba for actually picking smart employees. What was she doing here at night? Probably working late.

I gave her an unfriendly stare, which caused her to pause, but I knew it wouldn't hold her off for long. I had about two seconds to plan while I looked at her. When she reached forward again, I jumped to my feet and ran for it—

Or at least tried to. I found myself being held back and turned my head around to see that the woman had caught hold of my arm. We engaged in a brief tug-of-war that felt like she was more willing to break my wrist than to let me go. I managed to twist free, more from sheer strength than superior technique, and _then_ I ran.

Shouts followed me, but it helped that I knew the surroundings quite well. It also helped that the people who had found me had frozen in disbelief at first having an angel fall to their feet and then seeing its spectacular retreat. The head start I got from their momentary shock and dismay was enough.

Five streets and various corners afterward, I bent over with my hands clutching my knees, panting for air. Adrenaline had fueled my sprint, but now I was shaky as I realized how very close I had actually cut it. What if I had actually been caught? What would I have done then, told the truth?

Everything hurt, my wing most of all. I had to get back to Seto and Mokuba, but flying was definitely out. That left walking and praying that I wouldn't run into many people out roaming downtown at night.

In trying to avoid my problems, I had only added to them. It was still depressing to realize what it was that bothered me the most. I was more angel than human. A human being wouldn't have tried the trick that I had; they would have simply died. It would have never occurred to them to go flying to release their frustration, not unless they meant it in a suicidal way. A human also wouldn't have the problem of hiding who, or what, they were. I could hide that part of myself and try to fit in with everyone else, but the fact was that I was different. I had been transformed.

What about _Devastation_? What would happen to the band if I disappeared—would their careers also be erased along with the memory of having known me? Would they find another singer? How could all things that had changed due to my existence be undone?

I had so many questions that I didn't have answers for. They expected me to make a decision, but I didn't even understand what the choices were, or whether I really had any. It seemed like no matter what I did, I would only end up losing everything. The only difference was how much I would hurt others that I cared about.

_Pain-bearer_, Seto had called me, or at least tried to deny it for me. When I had heard it, I had thought that it was the most awkward description that he could have chosen, but now I was starting to see why he had used those words. Was it really the purpose of angels to suffer for others' sakes?

I was happy that I had helped Seto and Mokuba. I was also happy that my bandmates had launched their careers and lives due in part to my abilities. Raphael had gotten closer to Varon now that I was no longer there to mediate between them and they were doing very well, too. I even made other people, random strangers that I would never meet, happier through my music. Despite all that, I couldn't get myself to be content with just knowing that everyone else was happy. Worse yet, according to Anafiel, if I was removed from the equation, they would continue being perfectly happy...

Maybe the most human thing left about me was my selfishness.

It was a very long walk back.

o o o

Mokuba was asleep, which was a slight blessing. On the other hand, Mokuba's presence might have been helpful in shielding me from the wrath of his brother, who seemed able to live without ever sleeping. It wasn't so much that Kaiba had felt anything through our bond from my escapades, since I had had the foresight to shut it down, but more the fact that he had been waiting hours for my return, after having discovered that I was missing.

To say the least, _angry _was really putting it lightly. Then he found out about the broken wing, and all I could think was that at least I had managed to leave out the part about jumping off a building. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of anything plausible to explain away the injury other than the truth—how else would one break a wing—so then Seto was angry about the fact that I wouldn't tell him where I had been, much less what I had been up to.

I managed to get away long enough that I cleaned up, although having ever-present wings made even simple tasks like taking a shower ten times as difficult as it should have been. The burning sensation had stabilized a little, although I hadn't figured out what it was or how to alleviate it. Afterward, I lay on my stomach in bed and listened to Seto, as I had promised I would. He sat on a chair about two feet away from the edge of the bed.

I couldn't do much but take it. I lay there and let all the guilt wash over me, hardly hearing him or really comprehending the words. After all, everything that he said were things that I had already thought about. I was thoroughly to blame, and we both knew it.

It wasn't until I felt a warm weight in the middle of my back and realized that he had put his hand on me that I also realized that he had stopped talking entirely. Seto seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but I had been lost in my thoughts and didn't know what he expected of me. I had apologized with all my heart, but I found the apology on my lips again, only for him to stop me.

"Amelda," he began. "You haven't heard anything I said, have you?"

I turned my head toward him, the side of my face pressed against the pillow, and saw an odd sideways picture of a Seto Kaiba that looked almost as if he felt helpless. Before I could react, he continued.

"It's not about you taking off. It's your time and it's not like you need my permission to leave." Here he stopped and gave me a rueful look. "Though it would have been nice if you had at least called, and or trusted me enough to tell me what happened. But you've been so distant, sometimes I wonder if you're here at all."

I started really listening to him at those words, my back tensing beneath his touch as I stopped myself from shuddering. He could not have chosen any words that would have made me more afraid. What did Seto mean by them? Did he feel that I was distant because I was an angel? Or distant because I had closed down our bond to give myself some privacy?

He saw the conflicted look in my eyes. "You know what I mean, then. Even when you're right here, it's like you're doing your best to draw away from me. There's no demon between us now, but I think you left tonight because you were running, and I know it has something to do with Anafiel and things you haven't told me."

"I need time to think about it," I said defensively, but the excuse was weak.

"Is it something that more thinking or time will help?" His voice was almost gentle, as if he thought he would spook me if he pressed harder. He was probably right. Sometimes Seto knew me better than I knew myself. He stroked his hand down my back, as if trying to coax a cat.

"I've been thinking, too," he said when the silence stretched on and it became clear that I would not reply. "The demon said you would leave, and it's true that now that it's gone, maybe your official purpose is fulfilled. Anafiel said I would have to let you go once you told me everything. I didn't want to even admit that it was a possibility, but the demon did do one thing: it made it clear to me what my fears were, because that's what it confronted me with. So I realized that not knowing at all was worse than knowing, even if knowing is painful too."

He was speaking so seriously, so calmly. I don't know how he did it, but I couldn't listen to him trace his suspicions to their logical conclusion. "Seto, stop. Some things are really better left unknown."

He took his hand from his back and spread them wide in a gesture of frustration. "Then what exactly is between us, Amelda? What's it worth, if you can't even tell me and if you think the only solution is for you to distance yourself from me?"

I shifted until I was sitting on the edge of the bed, not caring that the movements made my wing throb with renewed vigor. The position put us more on an equal level, but I still didn't know what to say. He was right. I'd taken it all on myself and shut him out, but it wasn't only my choice to make.

It may affect me the most, but I couldn't trust that it wouldn't affect Seto at all. I couldn't believe that Seto would truly be able to completely forget that I had existed, continuing to live his life as if nothing ever happened. Even if there was a type of magic strong enough, then it wouldn't be right to use it, to extract all of his memories and replace them with filler events.

"All right," I said softly. "You _should _know. But I want to ask you something first."

"Ask," Seto prompted when I lapsed into silence again. I was trying to think of how to do this.

"My wing is broken," I finally started. "But it's going to heal and probably be fine tomorrow. But what if my wings were really broken forever and I couldn't do anything for you? If I weren't your angel, would you eventually find someone else and fall in love again?"

Seto began to speak, clearly angry that I would even suggest it. I felt it in the sudden tension that overtook his body and in the way his heart raced. But before he could get more than my name out, I reached up with my hand and pressed my finger against his lips. My own heart was pounding and my fingers were icy cold. "No. Seto, I want you to think about it, to answer me honestly. If there's even the slightest possibility. It doesn't mean you love me any less, or change how much I love you."

I swallowed with difficulty and scooted to the very edge of the bed, so I was just perched. My wings were arched forward on either side of me, framing me so that it seemed the space between Seto and I shrank. I saw his expression soften as he thought about my question, his concentration turning inward, and I wondered what kinds of things were running through his mind. I didn't even know what I hoped for as an answer.

"Amelda," he said, and I stood up abruptly, the tension demanding that I _do_ something. I barely stopped myself from pacing. Instead, I stood before him with my hands crossed in front of my chest.

"If there's even the slightest possibility," I repeated shakily.

He regarded me with a thoughtful expression and then I saw the slight sadness in his eyes, and knew the answer. "Yes," he said simply, seeming to understand that I didn't want any explanations, but only an answer. "I can't imagine it. I can't even begin to imagine it, but is it possible? Is there even the slightest possibility? I would have to say yes, I think so."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I sat down again, feeling like laughing and crying all at once. I guess it was the final proof that I had done what I was supposed to do, what angels were to do. I had changed Seto Kaiba. I had made him realize that there were other people in the world other than himself and his brother and even me, so that he was willing to consider the possibility of opening himself up to other human beings.

Had it started when I'd pushed him toward Yami? Or had those changes begun even earlier, even as far back as our midair duel, when he had willingly carried me in his arms after he had taken my soul?

I buried my hot face in my trembling hands, wondering how it was possible to feel this intensely, and yet be so unable to act in any way. Seto Kaiba had changed, but I had loved him before he changed. A part of me didn't want to hear that he could eventually find someone else and fall in love again, not even if it would make him happier, because it would make me forever unhappy.

I finally looked up again to see him staring sightlessly at his lap, where his hands were clasped together.

"All right," I whispered to myself. "I'm ready now, Anafiel. If this is what it means to be an angel, then I'm no longer human."

Seto finally looked up. "Will you tell me now?"

I nodded in speechless confirmation.

o o o

**A/N**: To all my readers and reviewers, you have my **heartfelt thanks** for your support and for inspiring me to take this story so far. Without your encouragement and belief in me, this never would have come so far. I hope you will continue to enjoy this to the end and of course, also hope to hear more of your thoughts.

Please review.


	14. Choice

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: Please see the previous ten chapters. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: The songs "Your Guardian Angel" and "Angels Cry" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus are basically the perfect soundtrack for this story, although I planned it without ever having heard the songs. I also recommend the piano version of "Your Guardian Angel" by the user kEyb0arDfweAk (his second attempt is better than the first) on YouTube.

Btw, I can pretty much guarantee a bunch of typos because I wrote this in the middle of the night and I still haven't edited it. If you notice something, feel free to help me by pointing it out. **Also, this is the full chapter**. What was up before was just the first five pages because this part was on another computer.

**  
Fourteen: Choice **

_"The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone."  
- __George Eliot_

Everything I had done up until now had been an attempt to avoid this moment, but it had finally come anyway. I couldn't hide from the truth forever and the burning in my blood that I still felt was proof of that, a heavenly time bomb ticking away inside of me. Ever since I had met Anafiel, I had known that eventually I would have to tell Seto.

There were moments like these throughout history, moments when the truth, or the lack of it, had changed the entire world. It wasn't the entire world that was at stake now, but it might as well have been, to me. It was _my _world that was in danger of disappearing, my little world that was populated only by a handful of _Devastation _members, my ex-Doom comrades, and the Kaiba brothers.

Even with Seto listening patiently, it was so hard. He obviously controlled himself so that he wouldn't interrupt until I had finished telling him everything. Where could I even start? What could I possibly say to make it any better?

In the end, I told him everything that Anafiel had told me, my voice shaking so hard that I kept stopping in order to gather myself together. I hadn't planned on doing this, hadn't thought that I would end up telling him almost word for word what Anafiel had described would happen if I chose to stay with him on Earth. I certainly hadn't planned on telling him the part about how he and Mokuba would forget me and continue to live without me, if I chose to return to where they said I belonged.

I guess what made me do it was the thought that none of it would matter anyway, if it was true. Seto wouldn't even have the memory of this conversation. If his eyes were full of anguish now, it was only a temporary pain. He would forget everything in the end.

I had never felt so trapped and hopeless, not even when Miruko and I had been living in the war zone. I didn't understand how it was possible and so I couldn't accept it. Was this what absolute power was like, the power to change time and memory so completely that it was all erased? Whether it was called God or fate, I couldn't even begin to understand it. Even if I had lost my brother, I still had my memories of him and I still loved him. No one, nothing, could take that away from me.

But to know that something like that was actually possible…how could a human being stand to have that kind of knowledge? Someone else may have been comforted by the thought that not all was random, that some special force was watching over all the patterns of life and death. Someone else may have wished to think that there is a reason for the joys and sorrows they have experienced. But for people like me and Kaiba, who have always had more faith in willpower than in destiny, it meant that we were utterly powerless in the end.

"Those are the 'choices,'" I said into the bitter silence after I had finished, my face still buried in my hands. The dark strands of my hair were threaded through my fingers. Seto's calmness had forced me into a similar calm state and I was too tired to even feel anything. "I'll always be yours, Seto, no matter what happens or where I am. But I don't know if you can be mine."

Seto's hand suddenly rested on my shoulder, stopping me from saying more. I looked up, expecting to see anger, but there was only determination and compassion in his expression. "This isn't as much of a surprise to me as you think it is," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Amelda. I thought you had thought about it as much as I had."

He was sitting next to me, so close that our thighs brushed. I looked down at my tightly clasped hands in my lap; my knuckles were turning white under the pressure. "What do you mean?"

"Amelda, remember how you came to me?"

I nodded wordlessly, the words enough to spark various recollections. We had come so far since then, it was almost as though we were strangers to those past selves. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You appeared in my room," he said, not meeting my gaze. Instead, he seemed to be looking over my shoulders as if examining the tiny details of my feathers. "It was right after midnight. One moment, I was alone and typing on my computer, my thoughts on you, and then all of a sudden, I heard your voice saying hello. I didn't believe it, I thought it was my imagination, of course…I was so tired in those days and felt so apathetic, I was just enduring life hour by hour. But then I looked up, and there you were."

The blue of his eyes were soft with remembrance and I could only look at him, astonished by what he was saying. He had been thinking of me when I had appeared? We had never discussed this and I realized that I had never asked him exactly what he had thought when I had first shown up and promptly declared myself to be his guardian angel.

"You came to me so suddenly," Seto continued. "I really didn't know what to make of it. I wanted you even back then, but at the same time, I couldn't understand it. I had never wanted anything else before, never felt like I _needed_ anyone other than Mokuba. Then you just fell into my life. Literally."

He pried my hands apart and took one in his, holding it tightly. The pressure was steady and comforting; it was a small intimacy, but one that I had rarely experienced. "I wanted to possess you. I wanted it so badly, I did all sorts of crazy things, but you didn't even realize it. I _touched _you, Amelda. Right after you came to me, I ran my hand down your back, between your wings. And then the next morning I saw you wearing my shirt, and I imagined what it would have been like if you were wearing it because you were my lover."

I thought back to that first night and morning, but all I could remember was that Kaiba had been angry about my intrusion and had practically tried to throw me out. Well, there was the horror I felt over succumbing so easily to his touch—that was still vividly in my mind. I definitely remembered the touching part, but I also remembered that he had done it because he hadn't believed that my wings were real. But was this what he had really been thinking the whole time?

"Good things that just drop into your life don't stay there forever," Seto said while I remained speechless, reviewing all those memories with what I had just learned, seeing some of the things I had missed. "I learned that early on, Amelda. My parents were taken away, just like that. Gozaburo Kaiba was supposed to be our way out, but he was just the beginning of another nightmare. So of course, the moment you came into my life, I started wondering when you would leave it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" I whispered.

He hadn't been looking at me anyway, but now he turned away from me so I could only see his profile. His voice was low but steady. "Because you did, Amelda. I kept pushing you, and you kept leaving. When you finally came back, I told you that I didn't want that for Mokuba. I didn't want him to love you, if you were only going to leave again and again."

It didn't matter how unaccusingly he said it all. The words were like little darts. "I…"

"Shhh. Amelda, I'm not blaming you. I kept making things unbearable for you, didn't I? We were both wrong. In some ways, we're really too alike—too proud, too afraid to let others in. It was always about proving something to myself and to you." He took a deep breath. "But because of all that, I've thought about this before. You're an angel, Amelda. I can't change that. I wondered what it would mean for us."

"So when you kept asking if what the demon said was true, when it kept playing on your greatest fears…?" I asked, afraid to know the answer.

He nodded. "We've been hurting each other so much. I don't know why it is that the people you love the most, you also hurt the most. I just want you to promise me one thing." He laughed a little, but the sound was unhappy and tore at me.

"If I can, I will," I told him. Hold each of my hands in his, Seto brought them to his lips and gently grazed over each knuckle.

"Remember our duel that ended in a draw? We each had one unconditional pledge," he said slowly. His eyes were asking me whether I would accept this, whether I would let him ask.

I closed my eyes briefly, remembering the rooftop of KaibaCorp and my fears over Kaiba's suicide. That had been mine—that he would never kill himself, not over anything. "Yeah," I answered, my voice paper thin. "What do you want?"

The burning was getting worse and I was glad I was sitting down, because my blood was rushing loudly in my ears. I was frozen like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming train. He was probably going to ask me to stay, but did I want that? It would be so easy. I didn't want to face this impossible choice, so why not just take someone else's decision? Why not just listen to the wishes of the one person who meant the most to me in the world?

Or perhaps he was contemplating some sort of noble self-sacrifice, releasing me from him to go back to Above. Perhaps he would ask me for forgetfulness, so he could live his new life without the past always haunting him. I couldn't be sure. In this kind of situation where the choices were so limited and would lead to despair no matter what was chosen, what would Seto choose?

It didn't matter, in the end. What mattered was that I trusted him enough to give my entire future into his hands.

He took a long time thinking and he had meanwhile let go of my hands, so I was huddled on the edge of the bed, drawing my knees up and wrapping my arms around them. Through it all, my eyes remained on him, mesmerized.

"What do you want?" I asked again, afraid.

"I told you before that all I wanted from you was _you_, Amelda," Seto said. "I don't care if you're an angel or if you're human. I don't want you to feel like you have to be here because of duty, or base your decisions on what you think would be best for me. I just want you. And if I can't have that…" He took a deep breath while my heart shuddered to a stop.

"Promise me, Amelda, that you won't take away my memories of you. No matter what you decide in the end, no matter how painful it gets, I never want to forget."

I was prepared for anything but that. Seto's hands were on my arms as I looked at him, not understanding, and he drew me up so that we both were standing. The expression in his eyes was bleak and somehow tender at the same time.

"Don't make me forget I love you, Amelda." As his arms closed around me, I closed my eyes, unable to believe that his choice was to have me forever tattooed on his heart, regardless of what the future held for us. Even if he never saw me again, even if he fell in love with another person, even if what we'd been through together didn't seem worth it in the end... How could he want to remember this? How could he want to remember me?

"All my life I've never had anyone other than my brother," he said into my ear, holding me so tightly against him that I felt his heart pounding as erratically as mine was. "I spent a great deal of that time reading, lost in books. I tried to figure out life not by living it, but by examining the words of all these dead philosophers."

I had a sudden flashback of memory that I must have picked up from him. It was one that I had seen before, when he hadn't meant for me to share it. Seto, sitting at his desk in a noisy classroom, his eyes fixed on the book in front of him while he completely ignored everyone around him. This time, Seto offered me that memory, gave it to me freely. I knew the book; I could feel how much those words meant to him.

"I always came back to Nietzsche," he explained. "But I never understood one of his maxims."

"What is it?"

"Number 153," he stated softly. One of his hands moved up from where it rested on the small of my back, and he brushed over the tiny, downy feathers where my wings began. I made a muffled sound against his neck at the caress. "That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil."

"Or beyond heaven or hell," I said, tears blurring my vision, and kissed him.

o o o

It was the ringtone from my cell phone that brought us back to reality, stopping us from taking it any farther than that. I looked at Seto to see if he regretted it, but I think we were both still exploring the depth of the emotions in us, and I found that somehow it didn't seem to matter so much. I had enjoyed seeing him temporarily out of his mind, even though the sweetness had a tinge of desperation on both of our parts. He wasn't the kind of person who lost control easily, so it made it all the more special to know that I could affect him that way.

His eyes had softened into that brilliant, crushed blue that had become my favorite color. There wasn't anything cold or unemotional about him now and he was so beautiful to me that it almost hurt to see him.

It wasn't until that moment that I realized that I would have always loved him even if he had never returned the feelings. His bangs had fallen across his eyes and I reached out to brush them to the side, and then I understood. I could never resent him for making me lose my wings, or grow bitter in what I felt for him because I had been exiled from where my soul called home. But perhaps he could come to resent me if he felt that I had sacrificed too much for him. I didn't want to force him to love me.

My cell phone rang again, thankfully breaking me free of my thoughts before Seto could somehow sense them. By mutual consent, Seto and I had backed off from discussing serious topics, but we both knew that time was running out. Our bond had grown stronger than I had ever imagined it could, now that we were willing to keep both sides of the link open.

The incessant electronic sound made me sigh, since I knew who it was from. I had already canceled one performance without warning and if my bandmates were pissed at me, they had good reason to be. I couldn't let them down again and I couldn't explain, either. Emerson was the only one who knew the whole story behind how I'd gotten shot that night and turned into an angel.

It was a pity that I couldn't tell them, because I had a stellar excuse as such things went. Even using my imagination, I doubted that I could have come up with anything more spectacular than the truth. Sorry, had to cancel last night because I was off banishing a demon. Good news: I saved the human I was assigned to protect as a guardian angel. Bad news: by banishing the demon, I might have to go back to heaven, or Above, or wherever it was that angels lived, so you guys might not have a lead singer anymore. But the angels assured me that you guys will all be taken care of, so I don't know, maybe they'll fix something for you and someone amazing will just take over in my place.

Just the thought of it wiped any last traces of humor from my face. I didn't want to be _replaced_. Would Emerson and the others just accept whoever it was as if they were me? Would their memories of me be transferred to the new guy?

"Going somewhere?" Seto asked, sensing the change in my mood. I had texted Emerson that I would be at the club in twenty minutes, and it was with sinking feeling that I realized what this would be.

"One last performance tonight," I said softly. "I'm sorry, Seto. I can't just cancel again. It isn't fair to the others."

"Yeah, I understand." He shrugged, the motion looking more natural on him than I'd thought was possible. Whatever else he had always been, he hadn't been careless, but he was more generous with his expressions now. "I'll come with."

That made me pause, just as I was about to take off my shirt and change into my stage outfit. "Really?"

"I want to hear you sing." He sat on the bed and I had to resist going over to touch him. "And...I've missed seeing you dance. Even when you were just practicing, it was intense."

Watching him, the bottom of my shirt still clutched in my hands, I had a wicked idea. Without taking my eyes off him, I gave him a slow smile. "So exactly how long have you been watching me anyway?"

He swallowed and his gaze flicked away before returning to me, the only signs of his embarrassment. He looked at me, about to reply, but then he just sat there without saying anything at all.

I'd slipped my shirt up to expose a good deal of skin and even though he'd definitely seen some of it before—my midriff was usually bare—it was more of the fact that I revealing myself to him so deliberately. Besides, I had the benefit of knowing that I looked good. Dancers usually had lithe, toned bodies and I was no exception.

The shirt I had chosen was one of the more provocative ones since I had figured that I owed the fans some extra dazzle since this performance was actually to make up for the one I had cancelled. So even when I slipped it over myself and covered up more, the look on Seto's face didn't change much.

I stalked over to where he sat and nudged his knees apart with my thighs, stepping in close so I could kiss him. My heart was pounding, but I was enjoying myself far too much. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. I _definitely _hadn't been concentrating, so my wings had appeared and I'd drawn them in a semi-circle around us again, the white feathers providing a pretty backdrop and giving an extra sense of intimacy because they blocked the light.

He reached up behind me to stroke my back and my mind went blank as his hands skimmed over the junction of my wings. He seemed to delight in exploiting that weakness and I wasn't really complaining anymore. I couldn't hold back a gasp of delight and he rested his head against my bared stomach, making me hold myself still so that I wouldn't get _too _distracted. Not that he wasn't already doing a good job of that, I thought hazily, as he continued to touch me where I was most sensitive. He obviously liked the feel of hot skin and feathers and well, even the very first time he'd touched me there, I'd practically melted. He mumbled something that I didn't quite catch.

"What was that?" I asked, running my hands through the silky brown strands of his hair. I would have never imagined that he'd give me so many liberties to touch him.

He gave a slightly strangled sounding laugh. "I said, God, this is like some kind of perverted fantasy."

I laughed, the tension between us changing from serious to playful. "Are you admitting to something, Seto?"

"Maybe I have a weakness for angels," he teased right back, actually looking his age for once. It was my age too, I reflected. Despite all the things we had been through, separately and together, we were still young.

"Angels?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, stressing the plural. "Let me guess, out of all of them…Anafiel?"

He shook his head. "A weakness for one in particular," he amended.

I liked this more relaxed, happier Seto. "Oh? And what would be _my_ weakness?"

He actually seemed to contemplate this for a moment and then the look he gave me was definitely sinful, fitting right in with our little theme of perverted fantasies. "Me."

To prove his point, he stood up and kissed me thoroughly, almost making me abandon my bandmates to fare for themselves. But he tugged me out the door. "You'll be late if you don't hurry."

I let him pull me along, although I still protested. "That's okay, we always start late anyway."

He looked at me, eyes bright and slightly smug. "Oh, but I want your bandmates to finally meet your 'Mystery Lover' for once."

"_What?"_ I yelped, stopping in my tracks. "How—?"

Seto gave me a disdainful look. "You didn't honestly think that I wouldn't have found out whether I had competition?"

I shook my head in defeat, knowing that I'd never hear the end of it from the others.

o o o

I had performed enough times that usually my nerves were pretty well controlled before the show. It helped that we had worked our way up in the music industry because I was used to having an audience whenever we played. We weren't a band that had been picked up after practicing in someone's garage. The audiences had grown significantly bigger, but we were still based here in Domino City, where we had begun, and where they loved us.

Half of my mind was still on Mokuba. I had said goodbye to him before the two of us left, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was the last time I would do so. Pulling him into a hug—he seemed surprised, no doubt because I was rarely so physically affectionate—I remembered what Anafiel had said. It was another piece of the puzzle, another factor to weigh in my decision. Miruko waited for me Above, if that was what I chose. Maybe it would be better this way, a sudden cutoff instead of something more. Would Mokuba even remember my goodbye?

Backstage, everything was in chaos. I had arrived late and that, coupled with the fact that I had shown up with Seto Kaiba of all people, seemed to throw everyone off. One of the strings on Emerson's guitar had snapped during our warmup and had done so in a way that the end of it flicked up, catching Riuko, who was beside him, in the eye. Since Riuko was on the drums, he insisted that he was fine for the performance, but it was still incredibly bad luck. I tried not to take it as a sign.

The best thing about the band was that it let me live in the moment, so that I neither dwelled on the past nor worried about the future. That had been the exact kind of thing that I'd needed after Doom had broken up and everything had been revealed as one big lie. I was seeking the same kind of release now.

Despite the disorder, I had brought Seto backstage with us and I found him again just before starting time. Careless of the people rushing around me, I grabbed his hand and kissed him before he'd even seen me appear. Excitement and adrenaline were pumping through me, drowning out the discomfort of whatever was corrupting my blood. The demon seemed like a figment of my imagination. The touch of our lips together brought a rush of heat that seemed to free something deep inside me.

"You look amazing," Seto said when we finally broke apart, and I smiled to hear his rare compliment. His hand traced the edge of my cheek down to my neck and I shivered at the sensation, expecting him to continue where the kiss left off. Instead, his fingers were stopped by a leather cord.

"It was one of the things that brought us together," I told him when he followed the cord down to its pendant in the hollow of my throat. It was warm from resting against my skin and I knew that the cracked stone was still glowing an unusual shade of green.

"The Seal of Orichalcos was part of that pendant," he said thoughtfully. "Funny how that's the way we finally met, although our connection always went further back than that."

I flashed back to another time when he had commented on it. It had still been the most intense duel of my life, far more than just a game in so many ways. "It was still something that brought us together. I was supposed to take your soul with it, but instead you took mine."

"Hmm." He looked like he wanted to say more, so I stayed where I was even though I could hear Emerson yelling for me. The crowd was starting to get really rowdy, so I knew I was pushing it. Suddenly inspired, my hands flew to my throat and I started fumbling for the clasp.

Meanwhile, Seto wasn't looking at me, instead thoughtfully gazing at the ground. "You got your soul back in the end, though. It wasn't permanent."

With a sinking feeling, I thought I could see where this was going and I tried to think of a way to distract him. I held the cracked Orichalcos stone in my hand and wondered what he meant by this. I touched him lightly on the shoulder and held it out to him. "I want you to have this, Seto."

"Why?" he asked, surprised. He took it anyway when I pressed it into his palm and curled his fingers around it. The stone was warm from being against my skin, but for a moment I forgot and nearly cut our fingers on the sharp edges near the center of the stone, where it had broken. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

I shrugged, unable to explain how I needed for him to have something of mine, something that had been such a significant part of my life. "I don't know. Wear it, if you want. Just keep it for me."

It was the wrong thing to say and I knew it immediately, even though he didn't visibly react. I could tell that he was returning to what he had been thinking before I'd so abruptly tried to change the direction of our conversation. His breath caught in his throat a little; I might not have noticed it, but we were linked on such a deep level that I could almost feel it. "If you give up your wings, Amelda, you can't go back."

Was he telling me to leave him? Or asking me to stay?

"I know," I said shortly. "But what choice is the right one, Seto?"

I turned away before he could answer, knowing he had none anyway. He just wanted what was best for me. I just wanted what was best for him. It seemed so simple when put that way, so why did these two things have to seem irreconcilable? Why it have to hurt so much?

o o o

One last act, I thought, just before I went out onto the stage. The burning sensation was crawling up my veins now and even though I continued to ignore it, I knew what it meant. I would be forced to make a choice before long: stay, or go. Either way, I would lose.

I didn't want to think about it, so I threw myself into the performance as I never had before. Part of it was also because I let _everything_ loose. Over the months, I had gotten pretty good at keeping one part of my concentration separate, focused on hiding my true nature—that is, focused on keeping my wings insubstantial and invisible.

It was too late to even try to hide them now. Everything about me that was related to my identity as an angel was starting to take over. My skin burned almost fever-hot and Mokuba's expression when he looked at me before I'd left had confirmed what I'd seen in the mirror. There was an otherworldly aura to me and it was nearly impossible to overlook. My grey eyes had turned a hypnotizing quicksilver color and my hair stood out in stark contrast to the color. Even my skin had taken on the somehow dewy, luminous quality that I had seen on all the angels I had met Above. Looking at myself, I saw the same characteristics in me that had recently made me so awed by Anafiel.

My wings couldn't be hidden because my concentration was completely shot from the feelings taking over me. It had almost made me forgo the performance altogether, until Seto pointed out that I could just go onstage as I was. No one would believe they were real, as long as people didn't touch them. Even if they looked closely, they would just marvel at how real it _looked_—no one in their right mind would think otherwise.

People didn't believe in angels unless they had a reason to, and no one did except for the human standing beside me, bonded to me forever. So for once, just for tonight, I sang and danced as my most genuine self. The irony was that no one could understand it except for Seto Kaiba, the one who would ordinarily have been the most skeptical.

I made my wings part of my dance and it was unexpectedly graceful, as if by finally accepting that part of myself, all of the fears that had made me clumsy had disappeared. My body fluidly changed from one position to another while feathers brushed over bared skin, teasing and tantalizing. For once, my wings weren't a dead weight on my back or a worry in the back of my mind.

I let them arch proudly above my head and then spread them out, half shielding me from the eyes fixated on me, and spun in a slow, graceful, circle. My feet continued to move without hesitation, each crisscrossing step propelling me along an outward spiraling circle, my hands outstretched above my head. The feathers at the very tips of my wings dipped in counterpoint to my movements, the entire effect balletic and flowing. I put everything in motion, more aware of the space around me than I had ever been before. The gasps from the audience told me that they were appreciating it for what it was, even if they didn't know exactly how special of an occasion it was.

Throughout it all, I knew there was one person watching me, the only one who actually mattered. We were separated by the stage and by the spotlight, but I had never felt closer to him. Physically there was a distance between us, but I only had to reach inside of myself to find him there, waiting. For the first time, I didn't dance alone that night. I knew that others filled the room but none of them mattered, not the way that _he _did. With the bond completely open between us, he was with me in every movement I made, every word I sung.

_Heart to heart_. Interspersed with the Devastation songs were my own personal songs created for the heart foundation charity, their soft but fast piano melodies providing a break from the more energetic songs. My voice came out in a husky croon over the rippling waterfall of arpeggios, the words so much more meaningful because I wasn't the one who had written them.

I moved with inhuman grace because I _was _inhuman. I let my wings trail gracefully behind me and then moved them in perfect patters with the rest of my body, and I was able to do all of it because they were real. I could feel my wings and the blood pumping through them with every beat of my heart. I could remember the sensation of the air pressing up hard against them as I cut through the sky, neither bird nor human, but rather, a heavenly creation that defied nature. My wings were more than pretty decorations and I was more than simply an angel in name.

Before war had torn my country apart and left my family for dead, we had diligently gone to church every week. After the tanks had rolled into our town, I still remember using the abandoned church building as shelter more than once. It was how I had lost my faith, knowing that such a supposedly sanctified place could be bombed like any other, that people died even there, whether or not the sunlight outside shone down through the panes of stained glass windows.

I remember learning about the angels and the heavenly rebellion that was lead by Lucifer, once the Morningstar and the light bringer. I had never paid much attention back then when I was a child, but I still remember hearing about how angels were given the divine spirit, but it was only humans who were given souls. So the war was fought, and the angels lost, and they fell.

So I, too, fell in the end. I let my feet lead me back to the point where I had began, again circling and spinning, cross stepping in a slow, eternal spiral, wings alternately revealing me and hiding me from the world. The low, seductive beat of the bass vibrated through me, while Haruko's whispery echo of the last words I had sung sent shivers across my flesh. I captivated the audience and with all eyes on me, I let myself fall into an exhausted heap, limbs naturally askew. Only my wings remained upraised, fully outstretched and shining a radiant, pure white.

I had to struggle hard not to shudder, my breath coming fast and harsh, and my heart pounding wildly in my chest from all my exertion. There was an ache in my arms and legs that told me that I would be sore tomorrow from such unrestrained dancing, but I didn't care. Even the burning rush of the blood in my veins seemed natural, rather than a sign of my impending doom; I felt like I had truly fallen from Above, where the air was sweet and clean, and too thin for me to breath.

I held the pose for two, three, four long moments, until I was almost dizzy from it all. I let out the breath I hadn't been aware that I had been holding and finally relaxed, letting my wings settle over me, shielding me with a feathered wall of white that was as delicate as lace.

The spotlight had slowly faded until I was left as a blur on the black stage, where I would have been eaten up by the shadows but for the brilliance of my feathers. The performance was over but I made no move to rise from my near fetal position, not even caring that the ground beneath me was most certainly dirty. My bandmates gathered around and I heard their excited and congratulatory voices like buzzing in my ears. I couldn't shake off the memories. I had lain on the dirty ground once after another performance, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the heart. It seemed so long ago.

A pale, perfect hand was extended out to me and I felt it more than I saw it. That alone told me who it was. I hesitated, wanting to remain behind the safe barrier of my wings. The adrenaline had passed and left me feeling shaky, the burning in my blood so bad now that when I looked down at my arms, I half expected to be able to see some sort of sign of the demon blood making its way to my heart. I had poisoned it, but it had poisoned me, too.

"Amelda," he said, so gently, perhaps because I felt like I could break with just one more word. Finally, I reached out and put my hand in that strong and warm clasp, letting myself be pulled to my feet.

Everything had begun on a fateful night like this, almost a year ago. Seto Kaiba had been watching me then, drawn to me the same way that I was drawn to him, but neither of us had been ready to admit it.

Everything had changed with just one bullet. I lost my life, only to be given a pair of beautiful, but useless wings. I swore an oath to protect him, creating a bond that could not be broken. And so Seto Kaiba gained a guardian angel.

And now I realized, that was what I truly was.

I looked up at him with eyes blurring with tears, knowing that I was about to hurt him more than he had ever been hurt before. "Seto, I've chosen to return."

o o o

A/N: Sorry to leave you guys at a cliffhanger, but **please review**.


	15. Angel's Grace

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: Please see the previous chapters. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: It took me a long time to reach this point and if you're reading this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having come so far with me. This was a very difficult story to write, especially since I put so much into it and couldn't seem to find much of an audience. But some of you have been there from the beginning and encouraged me not to give up even when I didn't think I should continue. You've stuck with this patiently through the months (and years!) in between updates, while I was frustrated and wishing I'd never written it in the first place. I'm so thankful you guys gave this a chance.

I'm usually hesitant to recommend music since I've had the experience of looking up songs that inspired authors to write, only to discover that I didn't think the music fit at all. With that said, I do hope you'll try listening to Hayley Westenra's "Amazing Grace" (live and album versions can be found on YouTube) because she really has a lovely voice. There are also the two Red Jumpsuit Apparatus songs I mentioned in previous chapters, "Your Guardian Angel" and "Angels Cry." The former is mostly worked into Amelda's perspective, while I've interpreted the latter to be Seto's thoughts.

**Fifteen: Angel's Grace **

_"If we could perceive our angels for just a single day, this world would never be the same again, nor would it ever wish to be."  
__- __Anonymous_

It was a little past midnight by the time we started home, just the two of us together. I was exhausted and at the same time utterly energized, as if the burning blood just under the surface of my skin had transformed with my performance and now carried some mystical charge. It was better than caffeine. The night had never seemed so alive.

Walking with Seto by my side to where his car was parked brought back unexpected memories—flashbacks of the night that I had died, the night that everything had started. Well, my connection with Seto had started long before that, but we would never have developed a relationship if I hadn't become his guardian angel. Had it been a blessing in disguise, or would Seto come to think of it as a curse, once I left?

There were so many more people I would leave behind, too. When I had first become an angel, I had thought that I'd lost everything, even though I should have been thankful simply to be living. Knowing now that the months since then had been an unexpected gift for me didn't make it easier this time to walk away from it all. At the same time, I was grateful for the chance to say goodbye, as if it made the loss easier in some slight degree, even when none of my bandmates knew that it was for the last time.

At first Seto and I didn't speak on the way back, both of us too lost in our own thoughts and feelings. I sat in the back, my wings burdensome now that I couldn't possibly will them into insubstantial transparency. Somehow it felt as if all along, I had known what was the right thing to do. Once I had announced my decision to Seto, once I acknowledged to myself that I had accepted my transformation into an angel, even the demon's poisoned blood in me seemed to change. Instead of an increasing pain, it was almost a kind of longing. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was a call to home.

"Do you want to say goodbye to Raphael and Varon?" Seto finally asked, breaking the silence. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror briefly, his irises startlingly blue in the flash of light, the skin around his eyes pale, in sharp contrast to the rest of his shadowed face. I saw myself as well, a figure behind him who was almost radiant with an inner glow, as if moonlight were shining through beneath my skin and feathers. Pure silver flecks glittered in my gaze; no human could have ever had such eyes.

I looked away, not wanting to face the evidence that I didn't belong here in this world. The illumination of my wings was so bright that they almost cast shadows themselves and when a lock of my hair fell forward against my cheek, I could see that the strands shimmered a dark, jeweled red.

"I can't. I can't go see them, Seto." I didn't immediately elaborate, but I didn't need to. He could feel the complicated knot of emotion in my chest; he knew that it would be easier for all concerned if I simply disappeared. The bond was open between us, though nearly one-sided, as he had closed down his side as much as possible. I didn't need the connection to read the misery in his very being.

"Varon, Raph…" I took a deep breath. "They always knew me almost better than I knew myself. All three of us spent years living on the edge between denial and truth. They'll understand, when they find out I'm gone." I hoped so, anyway.

An uneasy silence fell between us and I looked out the window, watching the world blur past me. There were so many thoughts in my head that it was almost like I had none at all. The car seemed too small to hold me and after a moment, I realized that the feeling wasn't only because I was cramped for space with my wings. There was a growing desire inside of me to escape to the skies, to lift myself up higher and higher on the strength of my own wings. I knew instinctively that freedom awaited me once I surrendered my last bit of humanity.

That was the way I would find my way back Above, I realized. Was this why I had been given wings? Had I been made into an angel in order to fly my way up, by giving up what I wanted most? Even though some part of me told me that it was right, even though I was convinced that I wasn't making a mistake, there was still a part of me that could not believe I was letting go of Seto…and he was letting me go.

"Why?" The word came quietly from him and burst out of me in the same moment, the timing between us an exquisite heartache. Perfect synchrony. This confrontation couldn't be avoided and time was running out. How had we ended up at this place and where could we go from here?

"Tell me why," Seto insisted. "You owe me that much at least."

"You already know."

"I want to hear it from you, Amelda."

_Why are you letting go?_ The question was there in the bond between us and we demanded it together and of each other, letting its sharp edges shave away the corners of our hearts. My arms were crossed in front of my chest and I hugged myself harder now, trying to lessen the ache.

"I love you," I blurted out. "But you deserve someone who can love you back, someone you can spend a lifetime with, someone real. I never wanted to hurt you, Seto. I know it sounds stupid—I know I'm hurting you right now, hurting both of us. But it's better to say goodbye now, than later." My voice grew choked, but I forced the words out. "This is the only way I know how to save you."

I couldn't seem to speak anymore, could barely breathe. My heart constricted in my chest until it was something heavy and cold, somehow still suspended inside me but horribly wrong.

I loved him too much to selfishly stay, knowing that as an earthbound angel, my love would turn into resentment and hate over time. I thought about the fallen angels, their stories so much more compelling than those who remained with the loyal, heavenly host. Those angels had fallen out of love, I knew now, understanding it for the first time. They had fallen from too much love, both love of their creator, who had given them his spirit but not souls, and also love of humans, whose souls had burned so bright.

"Amelda," Seto whispered helplessly. He said my name like it was a prayer, like it was the most beautiful three syllables in the world, but also the most painful. Some sound of despair escaped him then, a gasp or nearly sob.

It wasn't right that he should sound so broken down. It took an angel to bring him low, but now I knew what he felt, because it was what I felt—as if my heart would burn through my chest and fall to my feet in a pile of ashes. I was saving him but ruining us.

"Amelda…"

"No," I said in denial, though I wasn't sure what I was denying.

_Please stay_, I said for him in my mind. _Please don't go_. But the words didn't come from him and as I waited, I knew they weren't coming, ever. The realization made it seem like the world was dimming around me, though I was vaguely aware that I also hadn't taken a full breath in minutes, so there was something else I could blame. Anything other than Seto's silence. It hurt too much and even the air was heavy, full of our pain.

I had to get out. I felt like I was being torn apart. I opened the car door and was halfway out when I realized that the car had stopped moving some time before. Seto had also left the driver's seat and was already standing in front of me. I hadn't even noticed that we had arrived. The cold night air after the warm interior of the car was almost a shock, but one that I badly needed, bringing me back more to myself. Through my grayed vision, I saw that he had parked outside the garage, as if he'd known that I wanted—no, _needed_—the open skies above me.

The night sky made me feel small and alone, overwhelmed in the vast eternity of the universe. I bit back my tears, focusing on the small pain in my lip, letting the tinge of anger override the feeling that something was twisting in my heart so much that it would simply stop, too broken to continue beating.

"Why?" I whispered, looking up to look into the depths of his eyes, my heart caught in my throat. It was my turn to ask. Why didn't he ask me to stay? Was he losing me or was I losing him? Did it even matter, if we were to be separated anyway?

"You're…" He stopped abruptly, his gaze holding so much anguish that I couldn't look any more. I turned away from him, feeling him still looking at my back, my shining wings. I wasn't sure if I could bear to hear his explanation.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about this," I said, striving for an even tone, but wavering anyway. "Maybe we should just leave it as it is." He had no obligation to me, I reminded myself. I had opened up his heart to love, but that didn't mean he had to hold onto me. But I had hoped, still… Somehow, I had really thought he would fight for me.

"Amelda, let me say this." When I still didn't turn to face him, I heard him curse as his control finally broke, and then his words all came tumbling out, raw and terrible. "You're killing me, Amelda. I know—I can _feel_—that you think I'm giving you up. I don't know if I can even try to explain…"

Our angel and mortal bond was shut down, but the connection between us had never been stronger. Each second of silence stretched until they felt like hours, the minutes turning into years between us, until something snapped. The sound of his footsteps told me he was closing the distance between us, but he didn't try to make me face him.

"God, Amelda. Telling me that you love me, that you're the one, but you aren't real." Seto voice shook. "What am I supposed to do? I want you to have a choice, instead of being tied to me like a slave. I wanted to just take you home and then I realized…" The rawness of his voice told me, even without seeing it, that his hands had clenched into fists by his side. "Your true home isn't—it isn't here. You aren't _real_ here. I can't make you human for me."

Hot liquid filled my eyes and I looked skyward, blinking hard to pretend nothing was wrong. The stars that dotted the darkness above us blurred until it seemed as if the pinpricks of light were colliding. I burned with both angelic and demonic blood and yet I shivered, trying to hold myself together with sheer strength of will. I was strong enough to do this.

"Amelda…please don't cry…" Strong arms slipped around me from behind and then Seto stood pressed against me, my wings flaring out to either side of us. But though he tried to warm me, his blood never ran as hot as mine in the first place and my wings only prevented him from directly touching my back. It occurred to me suddenly that they were literally between us, separating us, and I felt a surge of helpless anger. I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste a little blood so that whatever sound bubbled up within me—a laugh or a sob, I couldn't tell—wouldn't escape.

How had our once pure intentions turned so obscure? He kissed the curve of my neck and shoulder, holding me close so I could hear his heartbeat. "This doesn't change the way I feel about you or your place in my life. You've made me into a better person. You've showed me that I was capable of love and being loved. No one else could have done that."

Despite everything, I smiled. "That was what I was supposed to do, Seto. I'm your guardian angel." But only now did we realize what that truly meant.

I shifted, loosening the embrace of his arms enough that I could turn around, my wings cumbersome. I finally maneuvered them into the right position, spread out but curved forward over my shoulders. I shielded us from the cold world and the distant stars. When I looked at Seto, I saw a love as beautiful as it was painful.

I kissed him and he responded eagerly, giving himself wholly over to the bond between us. I kissed him so hard that it almost hurt, but it wasn't our mouths that were bruised, but our hearts. Heat, tenderness, desire—I wanted him so badly and I knew he wanted me too, even if we had chosen to do what was best for each other, and that was not what was best for us, together. Tears finally trickled out of the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks, mingling with the taste of him.

"I'll never forget," Seto said huskily, every word seeming to come from a war within him. "And I've…I've set you free. You're free, Amelda."

But it was freedom as an angel. The very thing that had brought us together would separate us now. I wished that I could be human again and have a mortal's lifetime with him—I wished that I could selfishly hold his love and know that no one else would ever be given it. Yet it was wrong of me do think so and another part of me knew that no matter what happened, I wanted to see him find happiness, to let love in.

At least he would remember me, but what about the others closest to me? Would Mokuba have any memory of the other brother he'd adopted? I vowed right then to watch over him as well. I had all of time to watch over the Kaiba family and their descendents, if there were any. Even if they never knew they literally had an angel, a real guardian angel, watching over them, I would always do so.

"I'll explain things to Mokuba, afterward," Seto said softly, having almost read my thought. It wasn't only the older Kaiba brother that I loved. He hesitated, trying his best to comfort me. "If he remembers, I'll make sure he understands." I swallowed hard, feeling my throat close and my eyes sting again with tears.

It had not been a windy night earlier, but the breeze had picked up considerably since then and now even with my wings around us both, Seto's silky bangs flew wildly into his eyes. I brushed them out of the way, hand lingering to trace the line of his jaw. No sooner had I done so, another gust of wind left his bangs in disarray again. The sight actually brought a slight smile to my lips.

The wind stirred unfathomable yearnings deep within me, though, and I shuddered at the feel of its force against my outspread wings. Caught between Seto and the wind, feeling as if there was a fire in my blood, my whole body seemed to be dissolving into pure desire. I had spent so many months denying my feelings, my own existence, and one by one now, all such restrictions fell away.

"Heaven is calling," Seto said softly to me with mingled sadness and acceptance, though his arms remained tightly around my waist. His expression was conflicted, a mixture of so many things that I thought I could spend forever simply sorting each emotion out.

Love couldn't stop time. The world was still turning, the precious moments passing so that we only knew their value when they were gone. The stars above would continue their revolutions, their circular paths through the sky, just as they had done for millennia. The seasons would still change and Seto would grow old and yes, one day he would die as well.

"Heaven can wait a little longer," I told him fiercely. We were only two people, insignificant against the space and time of the universe, but we had this moment and it was more than many others had.

I pressed our mouths together again in a burst of heat and passion until he made a sound low in his throat, a breathy sigh of need and want that mirrored what I felt. We were both breathing hard by the time we finally broke apart and, taking advantage of Seto's momentary disorientation, I grabbed his wrist and led him toward the waiting mansion.

"Amelda?"

I looked over my shoulder and the sight that met my eyes literally made my heart skip a beat. "Don't think," I said. "Don't say anything."

o o o

Somehow we made it inside of his bedroom, though we presented a credible performance of two teenagers drunk on love on the way there. The mansion was deserted, thought neither of us would have noticed even if there had been observers. We fumbled with each other's clothes as if we had become too primitive to remember how to undo zippers and buttons and buckles.

I inadvertently tickled him when my wing brushed with the most delicate of touches over his naked skin, startling laughter from his sensual mouth, and the sound filled my heart full to bursting. At one point, he got his revenge by slipping his hands up my back and to the juncture of my wings, eliciting a breathy moan from me. I couldn't stop touching him and he murmured encouragement, giving as good as he got.

In the darkness of his bedroom, illuminated only by his computer and a screensaver of falling feathers, we lost ourselves in each other. I looked at him with tear-blinded eyes when he finally revealed himself completely to me, startlingly perfect in every way. The passion that had driven us to this point calmed for a moment as we looked at each other seriously, aware we were crossing an invisible line. He tried one last time, fearing that we were only making our parting harder, more painful. "Amelda, we don't need to—"

I pressed my fingers against his soft lips. "Shhh. How do you want to remember me, Seto? Do you want to remember me as an untouchable angel or as someone real and alive? As ghost of a memory, or as your lover?"

For a long moment he stood before me, unmoving, while my mouth went dry. Then he reached out to help me shed my last remaining clothes before he crushed us together, needing to be as close as possible. I closed my eyes as he rained kisses on my bare skin, and when we finally fell onto his bed in a tangle of limbs and rustling wings, I gasped in wonder at his confident, heated touch.

The language of angels is love, I learned later, for there is beauty and pleasure in both eternal spirit and mortal body, and what the soul needs is a little of both.

I straddled him, wings majestically sweeping up above us in a canopy of graceful lines, freed to exist in their full glory. Seto looked at me in awe and love, the latter winning out as he finally joined our bodies together, tearing a strangled cry of pleasure from my throat. My thighs trembled on his as we rocked against each other, both of his hands holding mine, our fingers intertwined. It wasn't perfect and yet it was; it was forever, and yet it wasn't.

I held him in my gaze until the sensations became too much and then I closed my eyes, head falling back in abandon and mouth open to gasp his name, all the while knowing that he continued to watch me. As his hips arched up to meet mine, I cried out, my entire body convulsing with my release and my frenzied motions causing his own undoing.

Love and feathers and tears—we held each other and listened to our breaths regain some semblance of their ordinary patterns, though I felt neither of us could ever return to something ordinary. We had come too far. I rested my head against Seto's muscled shoulder, committing to memory the look of wonder on his face, the delight shining in his eyes.

"I saw it for the first time," he told me, so softly that his heartbeat nearly drowned out his words.

Every one of my limbs felt replete with satisfaction, a deep languor lingering throughout my body. It was almost an effort to speak. "Seto?"

"Above your head, the faintest golden light." His hand came up to cup my cheek and then shifted so that his long fingers could thread through my jewel-toned locks. "The hint of a suppressed halo."

It started an incredulous chuckle out of me. "Angels don't have halos, Seto. They just made that up for convenience since the pagan gods were associated with sun worship and it made conversion a little easier. The first thing to be created is always light."

Seto didn't argue, but I could tell that he still believed what he saw. He looked at me tenderly, his own fine features seemingly suffused with their own light. I could see every detail, though the light in the room was dim at best.

"It's okay." I didn't know what prompted me to say it, but I repeated it again and again to him, until I felt him relax. I held him and kissed his brow, and told him to close his eyes. For a moment I leaned over and our lips touched, delicately. My wings glowed a soft and brilliant white, and when I looked down, I could see that my skin had turned luminous as well, every last bit of humanity leaving me.

I felt light and airy and I looked at my lover with spiritual eyes. It was only at this moment that I was certain of my decision, that I knew it was right, even though it hurt so much. I could see that I had left some of that light in Seto and it would remain even when I was gone.

My breath left me and I blew over him an airy kiss of clear and cold sweetness, with just a hint of mint. Somehow I knew it would ease him into sleep. I saw him struggle against it even as it gradually overcame him. As it did, his eyes fluttered open again one last time, meeting mine with a blue purer than any other color I had ever seen.

"I love you, Amelda," he said simply. There was nothing else left to say.

I whispered the words back to him, fighting back tears. I watched over him until the sky outside the window blinds began to grey, a few rays of light sneaking into the room.

Then I left and flew up to meet the sun.

o o o o

_In Time_

o o o o

I watched over him.

I wished, for a very long time, that it were that simple.

In some ways, it seemed exactly the same. At first, upon ascending, I lost all consciousness of my own existence. I did not remember my own name, I did not remember _what _I was, much less _who _I was. Between one gasping breath and the next, my wings straining as the heat from the sun matched the burning I felt within me, I seemed to dissolve into the stream of light itself.

I was spirit, but also nothingness. My thoughts and my feelings scattered before the vastness of the world until I was utterly free. As my body was cast away, I found that nothing could contain me. Higher and higher I drifted, until I flew not through currents of air, but rather, the complex, ever-changing patterns of life. There was no _I_ during those long moments. Time seemed to stretch, and then flex. I left one world, entered another.

Then I was home, in a way I could not understand, but recognized all the same. I was Amelda again, the same as I ever was, but _more_, too. Subtly different in a crucial way, now that I had left behind everything. I was welcomed by my brothers and sisters. I saw all those who had passed away before me and it was where I belonged, and yet…

And yet, it was so hard. I hadn't known what to expect, and yet that hadn't stopped me from expecting some things. Somehow I thought that everything would end with my choice—that the hurt would lessen over time, or perhaps that as a true angel, my feelings would change. At the very least, I thought the hardest thing would be my choice, but I found out otherwise. No, the hardest part was allowing myself to remember, because remembering was enduring and because remembering was an endless cycle through the five stages of grief. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

For a human, it should have ended there. That was why there were five stages, why it was a progression with a beginning and an end. For me, it was completely different. Maybe I just never actually got to acceptance, or maybe the stages just didn't even apply to me. Time is supposed to heal all things, and yet nothing faded, nothing really changed. Time was meaningless to me and yet because it was so meaningless, it made it that much harder to watch the world below. The days passed so very slowly because I didn't live through time, I _was _time.

Invisible, insubstantial, I was the breeze that kissed his cheek on the cold, lonely nights. He had adopted my former favorite haunt, though no one except his brother knew where he went when he decided to disappear. No—when he _needed_ to disappear. He stood on top of the towering monolith of the empire he had built, and he felt insignificant. He tilted his head up when he was there, as close as he could get to heaven without wings, and cursed me.

Wet and warm, I was the rain that fell so gently that day, the water that was almost as warm as tears. I couldn't feel warmth or cold, but I knew what it feel like to him. Mokuba had given him an earthenware flowerpot and he had brought it up there, leaving it in the expanse of grey concrete just beyond the bend of the L layout of the rooftop. It was the only time he had ventured around the corner, as if he were afraid to look, afraid to irrationally hope, every time, that somehow he would see me there.

I was there. He just couldn't see me, feel me, smell me, taste me, or touch me. I was nothing to him, and yet I was there and not, hidden from his every sense but also hidden _within_ him; I was still in his heart. The rain still fell, watering the garden of his soul. Slowly, surely, a tendril of greenery crept over the side of the flowerpot with vivid intent, a single leaf unfurling, and then another.

I was the liquid drops that washed away the blood when, so far above the ground, he screamed and punched the wall with his bare fists, whispering, "I promised you."

Our exchange of vows. Neither of them had been a declaration of love, and yet, what else were they, in their purest form? I had asked him to never to kill himself. In turn, he had made me swear that I would never make him forget me. Now, both noble intentions left only bitter suffering.

There were shadows that threatened to take him, thoughts that lured him to the sweet escape of oblivion. I fought them all off. There were days, eventually, when the sun shined as he stood on the ledge, the wind whipping his thick brunette locks across his eyes in that way that I had adored, once upon a time.

I was always there for him, watching. Guiding. Protecting. Loving.

It took him a hundred and sixty two days for him to smile again. It was during Mokuba's birthday. As an extra "present," Yami had succumbed to Mokuba's demands and danced an impromptu but incredibly salacious routine to what was possibly the most absurd pop song ever. It was hot and it was ridiculous. The sound of laughter almost drowned out the dirty lyrics. It was the most unwilling curve of his lips possible, but it was there.

I know, because I was there, too.

I was the candle flame that flickered and went out when Mokuba closed his eyes and blew, wishing with all his heart that his brother could be happy. I heard every thought as clearly as if he had spoken into my ear. The language of the soul, the prayers of the heart—it was love that was the true language of angels, after all.

On the two hundredth and thirty third day, he didn't go up to the rooftop. It had been a busy day and he had averted a crisis earlier in the day when one of his top clients had almost stormed out after an idiot Kaiba Corp employee had made a colossal error. I waited until the next day to bend over the solitary bud growing on the vine held by the earthenware pot. I was so certain I could lead him around the corner for the first time since he had abandoned it there. I whispered,_ 'bloom, bloom,'_ and the delicate petals unfurled.

He didn't go up to the rooftop that day either.

The next time he went, he brought my feathers with him and scattered them into the cold wind. He said my name so softly, so tenderly, that I almost felt as if he could see me standing before him with tears in my eyes. I had learned by then how to form the shape of a body to contain my spirit, but my tears didn't form drops. How could they, when they weren't liquid? I was all spirit, all serenity.

He let the breeze carry the white things away, all except the very last one, which he couldn't bear to drop into the wind. My hand was outstretched, only a little bit below his. I would have caught it. He didn't open his fingers.

I didn't know whether I was proud of his willpower to survive, to continue, or of his willpower that made him unable to entirely let go of love. Of me.

Three hundred and four days passed before I lost count. Or rather, he stopped counting. I had never begun counting in the first place, because unlike him, I never hoped that I would return. He had these special pages of sheet music. It had taken me nine measures to understand what he was doing. Nine measures, nine days—just one measure added each day, neatly numbered only at each line. Three hundred and four measures later, he had finished a heartbreaking melody and several variations on the theme.

He hadn't finished it, I noted. He had just—what? Run out of inspiration? Hope? Blind passion? I was glad, or I wanted to be. I wanted to be fiercely happy that all the subtle nudges I had given him, the ever so slight adjustments of his path, had allowed him to recover. To _recover_. As if what we had shared had been a disease.

What is it to be a guardian? What is it to be an angel?

I knew the choice that I made was right and I knew it in a way I also could not explain, because there was no logic to it. It was a belief. It was faith. It was, in a way, hope. In the end, what I knew was right became my choice, and what I knew was love. And because I had made this choice, the love that I knew transformed, just as I was transforming.

_Love is patient; love is kind… It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends…_

Those words were an ideal I couldn't reach. No one could, even angels. And yet, yet—I had made a choice. The truth was that I had returned not because I feared exile, but because I wanted to protect him. I had chosen and it had taken all these hours, days, minutes for me to learn and to understand. It hadn't been selfish love, but selfless love. If time was slow, if time crawled at an unbearable pace, it was because love didn't have a time, didn't have a self. It stood outside of time and thus outside of death because it was ever changing, ever ascending. But unlike my flight up to the sun, it was not merely rising, but transcending.

It was easy to call passion love, easier still to cherish intertwined threads of friendship and affection as genuine love. But my choice had changed all that—the choice of an angel, not a human.

Rather than an emotional or impulsive love, this was a deliberate, purposeful love.

Like the little tendrils of my vine stretching out toward light, I had tried my best to reconcile myself with the consequences of my choice, only to realize there was nothing to reconcile. If I couldn't escape grief, if I was endlessly cycling through the stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—it was only because I had accepted the results of my action, but had never accepted the action itself. Though my choice had brought so much pain and sorrow to both of us, I would choose it again, and again, and again.

I watched, believed, hoped, and endured. I was always there, even when I wasn't. Despite everything, I was still in his heart.

In choosing love, there is a measure of grace.

o o o

**Author's Note**: There's still a short but _crucially important_ **epilogue**. There will also be information there about how you can download the ebook version of Angel's Grace (for free of course), which has much nicer formatting than any html version of this. **Please review!**


	16. Epilogue and EBOOK

**Angel's Grace**

By ElveNDestiNy

Disclaimer: Please see the previous chapters. No copyright infringement intended.

**EBOOK Information:** Please go to my author's profile to learn how to download the ebook version of this story. It's nicely formatted, has all the miscellaneous author's notes removed, and you can "flip" the pages, bookmark things, and admire the coverart in your spare time, lol. Acknowledgements for all your help are also in there. Anyway, this epilogue has some pretty strong allusions to a few quotes about angels and love that I'm sure you'll recognize. **Please review**!

As of March 29, I've moved the end of Chapter 15 from the Epilogue to the correct place.

* * *

**Epilogue**

_"To love for the sake of being loved is human, but to love for the sake of loving is angelic."  
__**-** __Alphonse de Lamartine_

One year. Seto had stopped counting, so when the day came, it seemed to take him by surprise. Little wonder, since he had become more of a workaholic than ever. The date looked innocuous on the calendar that had become his desktop background. The day passed innocently, too, the same as any other.

But unlike other days, I didn't follow him around like a ghost haunting him. I didn't even watch as I usually did. This day, this one day of the year, I claimed for myself—and yet the very indirectness of my guardianship seemed to kick something heartrendingly familiar back into place: the bond. I had felt him all these past months, of course, but just a little. Now, when I sought to distance myself, it seemed he needed me enough that something drew us closer than we had been for the past three hundred and sixty five days.

All through the day, I felt his feelings. All day, I wondered if he felt even the slightest echo of mine. If he remembered that even in leaving him, I had never really let go.

Sunset came and went. The night was completely cold and dark when I couldn't stand the separation any longer. I could instinctively feel him; I traced him to his present location and felt a stab of fear. The rooftop of Kaiba Corp. He hadn't been there since that day he had let my feathers float away on the wind.

He wouldn't, he _wouldn't_. Would he? He had promised.

But then his emotions suddenly intensified, so much so that I could barely handle the onslaught. I had grown used to the serenity, the calm that seemed to be at least slightly inherent for angels. This, what was this? My lungs seemed to seize, my heart pounded so hard that I thought it would stop—and none of it made sense.

I tried to will myself there, but whether because of my panic or some other reason, I couldn't. Though my invisible wings were merely decorations since I was only a spirit, I opened them anyway and flew.

I landed on the long side of the L on the rooftop and my legs buckled beneath me, almost sending me to my knees. He wasn't there. I almost stepped to the edge, unable to stop a horrified memory of Seigo Tajima's broken body on the street so many floors below.

No. He wouldn't. I ran instead to the corner he had never ventured beyond, turned the corner, and gasped.

He was sitting on the floor, papers clutched in his hand and several pencils besides by his feet. His back was toward me, but beyond him, I could see that the vine had climbed the side of the grey concrete wall somehow, had even spread—and it was in full bloom. The air was heady with the fragrance of the blossoms. The flowers were as white as snow, as incandescent in the darkness of the night as the feathers of an angel's wings.

I took a step forward, and then another. He rose to his feet, leaving the papers on the floor, weighted down by something glass or crystalline that I had never seen before—something with a familiar white feather suspended within. The glass caught the light, illuminating a circular area of the paper, showing the dark slashes of music notes on white.

Somehow, I knew that if I were to glance at a clock at the moment, it would be midnight. The night air was chill and I shivered—I_ shivered._

And then, disbelievingly, looked down at myself. I hadn't felt this cold in a year. I hadn't felt my heart contract like this, or heard the sound of my own surprise, my own breath. The tears that slid down my cheeks hadn't dripped wetly onto the arms I was crossing defensively in front of me, tight against my chest.

Then I knew, finally, when I looked down and saw the finished song. He had been patient, though he had not waited, because waiting meant expecting, and that was an arrogance he had relinquished, a sense of self that he had given up for humility. This was his choice, too. His choice to still love me, even though I was gone, even though for one year he had never seen the slightest sign of my presence. His choice to believe, hope, and endure.

_Seto Kaiba_. This was his choice, too, deliberate and purposeful, a love that went beyond the emotional and impulsive. I finally understood then what it was to have an angel's grace.

He turned around and his eyes drank me in, made me human, because he no longer needed an angel.

"Hello, Kaiba."


End file.
